Don't Tell Sherlock
by MissRedAndMissTaken
Summary: (Crappy title, I know) John has a pen pal. How will Sherlock react? What about John? Is Jim Moriarty a friend of foe? This is AU... and the timeline is scattered & John is a high schooler. This is just another story to write while I'm procrastinating... Rating is T, but some possibly triggering things are mentioned... And possible later content may bump the rating up to M. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **Hi... Ms. Taken here... I honestly have no excuse for this story... It's just to procrastinate writing the others... I'm sorry**

 **I'll continue this if anyone really wants me too... sorry it's not better.**

 **Disclaimers... I don't own any version of Sherlock.**

 **This has some touchy subjects covered. (Nothing too bad in the first chapter, but it might get darker later...)**

 **Please don't read if you might be a little sensitive. I won't be offended, I swear.**

 **This hasn't been Brit-picked.. and I'm not British... sooo sorry...**

 **I hope you enjoy this story born from pure procrastination...**

 **Let me know if anyone wants more... I don't know if I'll continue otherwise...**

 **Also, this is an AU... John is a high schooler... and the timeline is a little messed up... I hope it's not confusing to read...**

 **Enjoy?**

* * *

 _Hello!_

 _We are doing a pen pal program! I'm really excited about getting to know you, and vice versa!_

 _My name is John. I am a freshman in high school. I really enjoy rugby and soccer. I'm planning to be a doctor when I get a little older._

 _I currently live with the 'great' Sherlock Holmes. It's not as great as some would expect… In fact it's downright terrible sometimes._

 _He's eccentric, messy, rude, childish and, honestly, an all around trouble magnet. I've been kidnapped about once a month since I came to live here in 221B. It's sad, but I've kinda gotten used to it…_

 _I'm sorry if you know him (or that he's the reason you got caught and are in jail… I'm even more sorry if I helped put you there…) I also run his blog… a misconception a lot of people have._

 _Anyways, what's your name? Do you have any hobbies? Am I allowed to ask why you're in jail? If the answer to the last question is 'yes', Why are you in jail? Do you have a lot of friends? When do you get out? What did you use to do for fun (or what do you do now for fun)?_

 _I hope to hear back from you soon!_

 _-John H. Watson_

 _P.s. Don't tell Sherlock we're pen pals… I think he would be really mad._

John put the paper into an envelope and handed it to the teacher.

He didn't know if it was a good idea to tell a criminal he lived with the world's only consulting detective… but it's not like said criminal could do anything to him… right? And, adding to that… it was common knowledge that the infamous detective lived at 221B… right?

Either way, he wasn't going to tell Sherlock. There's no way he'd approve.

It was part of John's grade… that's how he'd justify it. It was 50 points a letter. If he didn't do them, there was no way he'd pass the class.

The teacher had said they would do this once a week, but that the students could write to them in their free time if they wished (not that anyone would).

They were to write a letter to someone in prison. Some type of 'rehabilitation' help. John was all for it.

He liked to help Sherlock chase criminals, loved the thrill of the chase… if he were honest with himself, which, admittedly, needed some work, he also liked getting kidnapped… he loved knowing Sherlock was going to save him. Loved feeling just a little bit helpless, but also knowing he could beat the crap out of his captors if he wanted or needed to. Most of the time.

John supposed there was something wrong with enjoying that, but no need to worry anyone…

But John also just wanted these people to get help. He knew most of them have reasons for what they did. John believed in second chances. He'd gotten one, why shouldn't they?

The bell rang signaling the end of class. Students rushed out the door. John hung back a little. He didn't care much for being one of the first.

He didn't like being pushed around. The first ones out were usually people who pushed others. The lunch room wasn't going anywhere and the car parks were always backed up for the first ten minutes anyway.

"Mr. Bruce, when will we get replies from our pen pals?" John was curious. He'd never done something like this before.

"Well, we hope it will be before next Wednesday. If they are, we can get a grasp on the time-frame it takes the post to get where it needs to be." Mr. Bruce was a bland and, frankly, boring teacher. Never giving to much or too little homework. Never yelling… he was a very introverted man, very mild mannered , most students liked him… John didn't.

Some of Sherlock's 'Deduction' skill set had rubbed off on him. He could tell Mr. Bruce had a dark side. John hadn't know what until there were parent teacher conferences. John had to nearly beg Sherlock to come. John wanted to show how well he was doing in his school work.

Of course, Sherlock knew within the first ten seconds what the suspected 'dark side' was to Mr. Bruce. He often watched small children in his free time, he later told John.

He just watched, but Sherlock said if John found anything else, to tell Lestrade, a very good friend of both Sherlock and John, immediately.

Sherlock was currently trying to gather more evidence to put the wayward teacher out of a job where he was around the objects of his desire.

He packed his things up, giving a polite smile to teacher, then he was out.

Lunch was uneventful. So were the rest of John's classes. In anatomy they were told to take notes from the book. John found that a little odd, seeing as this was usually their homework, not classwork… but he was perfectly okay with it.

He suspected the teacher went out and got very, _very_ drunk last night.

* * *

As John was waiting in front of the school for Sherlock to text him to take the bus or walk home, he felt a tap on his back.

It was Lestrade.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Lestrade!" John beamed. He felt slightly uncomfortable calling the D.I. by his first name. Sherlock couldn't even remember his name… But John refused to be impolite.

"How's it going, John?"

"Hanging in there, you?"

Lestrade leaned down to John's height and lowered his voice a little.

"I'm about to arrest one of your teachers. Want to help?"

John knew it was a little against the rules to do that… but rules are there to be broken, right?

"You know I do." John followed the D.I. into the building. John led the way to the classroom. John knew which teacher being arrested, of course.

This was a very informal arrest. John suspected Sherlock had told Lestrade it was one of _John's_ teachers and the D.I. took it from there… most likely coming right over with a rag-tag team from the station as soon as he was told.

Scotland Yard was definitely not the best with handling it's employees… not that John was complaining.

He and Sherlock wouldn't be able to do what they do if it weren't for Lestrade.

John would have to think of some way to thank him for all the crap he's had to put up with.

The arrest went well. Mr. Bruce tried to run, but ultimately he was caught. He was handed off to the squad outside to be taken to the station.

Lestrade took John back to 221B. He really didn't see the reason Sherlock despised riding in police cars so much. Though, John suspected that he actually just liked not having to talk to the driver. That's a very Sherlock thing to do.

John didn't mind small talk. It was a nice break from having to try to keep up with his flatmate. Sherlock was smart and it made John's head hurt. Not that John was stupid, but Sherlock was on whole other level.

Lestrade was a little smarter than John, but give it a year or two and he would be on par or past him.

Not that John flaunted his intelligence like Sherlock did. John liked to dumb himself down to the public. He didn't know weather it was because he liked to surprise people with his smarts… or weather, deep down, he wanted to make his flatmate look even smarter. He supposed it was a bizarre mixture of both.

John got out of the car, waving to Lestrade as he drove away. He walked to the door, pulling out his key as he did so.

As he went to unlock the door, however, it flew open and he was pulled into a bone crushing hug.

"John! I saw that wicked teacher of yours on the telly! I'm so glad you're okay!" Ms. Hudson sniffled.

"It's alright now, Ms. Hudson. He's going away for a very long time. Sherlock made sure of that." John patted her back lightly.

"I'll have to thank him properly. I think I'll make some tea."

"Oh, would you like some help?" He offered. He looked up to Ms. Hudson like a mother. She practically was his mother with all the coddling she'd done.

"No dear, I think it'd be best if you went up there first. I'll be up in a few."

"Alright. Thank you, Ms. Hudson." John took the stairs two at a time. He was excited to tell Sherlock about the arrest.

Sherlock always seemed at least slightly interested when John spoke. John felt more than flattered. It was like when a cat willingly walks up to you and let's you pet it, despite being known to be a mean cat.

John grimaced at the poor analogy. Sherlock would not be happy to be compared to a cat.

As he reached the top of the staircase, John noticed something was off.

He crept closer and opened the slightly ajar door. He winced slightly at the creak it gave.

"Sherlock?" He called quietly. John worked his way around, checking all possible spots for someone to hide. When he'd almost made it to the kitchen someone grabbed his shoulder.

John's instincts kicked in and he dropped into a low roundhouse kick. Almost knocking the person to the ground… They kept their balance though, John popped back up, coming face to face with Sherlock.

"…I forgot to check behind the couch, didn't I?" John looked down.

Sherlock had been 'training' John since john had come to stay with him… After much begging from John, Sherlock agreed to help.

This was one of their training exercises. Sherlock would pretend to be an intruder and John would have to find him before Sherlock could reach him. John won only 38% of the time, but he was getting better.

"And under, and behind the door, and behind the curtains." Sherlock tutted.

"Oh, no way I forgot _all_ of those!" John huffed.

"You did, and, what's more, you didn't even get up to the third floor this time." Sherlock went to a white board they had by the door and put a tally under his name… his tallies far outnumbered John's.

John grumbled under his breath.

Sherlock turned around. "So, how did the arrest go?"

John perked up. "It went great! He tried to run, but he didn't get far. Lestrade seemed very on the ball today. He tackled him so hard, I thought he was unconscious!"

Sherlock nodded. "I told him about it and gave him all the evidence. He said he'd take care of it… I may or may not have mentioned it was _your_ teacher."

"Well, that lit a fire, I don't think I've ever seen him enjoy taking down a criminal _that_ much!"

John was making both himself and Sherlock a sandwich. He wanted to thank Sherlock. It was very unsettling having such a creep like that teach students… But John couldn't bring himself to verbalize it. A sandwich would have to do.

"Oh, by the way, Ms. Hudson is coming up in a few minutes." He said as he set the plate down next to Sherlock.

"Not that I don't adore her, but what for?" Sherlock said, checking the papers for anything strange.

"To say thank you for keeping me safe." John blushed a little, glad his flatmate couldn't see.

"She doesn't need to thank me for something that I've sworn to do." Sherlock sounded slightly offended. John supposed it was because the world's only consulting detective thought Ms. Hudson didn't believe he could take care of John.

"You know her. She'd thank the person who invented sliced bread if she could. She's a kind soul." John stuffed his sandwich into his mouth after so he didn't continue yammering on. He didn't know how he was going to keep his pen pal a secret…

"You're right." Sherlock also took a bite, not really paying attention.

Not a moment later, there was a knock on the door. When Sherlock made no move to get up, John sighed and rose from his seat.

"Hello, Ms. Hudson! Sherlock is in by the fireplace if you'd like to speak with him." He said as he accepted the plate of goodies. She'd brought up scones to go along with the tea.

"Oh, that's alright dear, I know how he gets after a case. You just make sure he eats some of them and drinks his tea." She smiled then walked back down the stairs.

John carried the tray over to the table and handed Sherlock one of the cups.

"So how was your day…?" John knew Sherlock hated small talk, but he was genuinely invested in what the older man had to say.

"We've got another case. Four serial suicides. Obviously they're murders." Sherlock went quiet, looking through a case report Lestrade had probably given him earlier.

"Oh, really? How do you think it's done?"

"John, do you not read the papers?" Sherlock still didn't look up.

"Well, no… not so much." John looked down, feeling disappointed he hadn't done what Sherlock expected.

"You should pay attention."

Well, that was the end of that. John supposed it was more than he normally got from his flatmate. John glanced at the clock. It was nearly four.

"Is that really the time?" he muttered. He pulled out his schoolbag and went upstairs. "I'm going to do my homework. Holler if you should need me…" _Not that you ever need me_ … John added mentally.

Sherlock didn't respond as John trudged up the stairs. Sherlock had moved over to the microscope and sat down. He wasn't moving for at least and hour.

John sighed as he shut his door. He knew his flatmate was a busy man… he didn't always have time to spare talking to a little kid, but it still stung a little.

* * *

John finished his homework relatively quickly. He had about an hour to kill before he had to go into work. John always chuckled a little when he called it that, but it was a fitting title.

All he had to do for 'work' was mop up some floors in the empty high school and just keep it tidy. They paid him fairly, so he couldn't complain. He also had the added advantage of knowing the school like the back of his hand.

He also got the school basically to himself. All but one or two other janitors, he was completely alone. It was peaceful, walking around in silence, not having to worry about all the gossip in the halls or the kids shoving each other.

It was also nice to get out of the flat for a while. Sherlock never cleaned his messes unless it suited him… so John was left to do it for him. The school's halls were never as bad as the flat and were actually very easy to clean.

And, finally, it just gave him time to think. About school, about Sherlock, about recent cases, everything. He could think about anything and there was no one to tell him he couldn't.

John decided to get ready for work then have dinner. That way he could leave right away. Sherlock knew he had a job, but never asked him about it. John assumed he already knew. Could smell the cleaners or something on his clothes when he got home.

He grabbed his bag and hopped down the stairs. Sherlock wasn't where he had been, so John assumed he left or had gone to his own room.

John walked to the fridge and opened it. He ignored the head and grabbed the milk. Cereal for dinner was always safe. He grabbed a disposable bowl and plastic spoon.

He ate quickly then set to look for Sherlock. He couldn't have left, his coat was on the rack. He could have been in the bathroom or his room, and if he were, John didn't want to bother him. He just decided to send a text saying he was leaving.

 _Left 4 work. B back later._

 _Text me if you need me._

 _-JW_

He grabbed his coat as he pushed send, then walked out the door.

On his way down the stairs he decided to walk. It was a very pretty night and John wanted to appreciate it. It didn't happen nearly enough.

He'd take a cab back, seeing as it'd be too dangerous to walk, but for now he just wanted some fresh air.

John took his time walking to the school. It was a bit of a walk, but he'd left quite early, so he took the scenic route. He'd only been walking a minute or two when his phone started buzzing.

It was a text from Sherlock.

 _Been another one. Need you back here._

 _-SH_

John sighed then texted back.

 _Can't. Going to work. And not close to home._

 _-JW_

John didn't have to wait half a minute for the reply.

 _Could be dangerous._

 _-SH_

"Oh, bloody hell." John started walking back when his phone buzzed again.

It was the address. John sighed and hailed a cab, glad he'd started carrying his gun everywhere.

* * *

When the cab had pulled up, he noticed police tape.

Then he noticed Donovan.

John didn't like her one single bit. She was just a very rude person. She also liked to insinuate that certain… arrangements were why he was allowed to live with Sherlock.

John tried to walk passed her, but she stopped him.

"Sorry, kid. You can't go in."

Lestrade had given him special permission. His rule was anytime both him and Sherlock were present, John could go in. Donovan just never listened.

"Is Lestrade in there…?" John tried to peer behind her, but she just shifted to block his gaze.

"Yes. Doing his job." She sneered.

John wouldn't admit he was scared of her… but he was.

"Is Sherlock here…?" John asked quieter.

"Yeah, your boyfriend is in there, you little freak."

John really didn't like her. "We aren't together, you know." He hated repeating himself every time… but he felt like he needed to.

"Sure." She smugly crossed her arms.

"We're just as much _not_ together as you and Anderson _are_." John crossed his arms too as Donovan sputtered.

"I'll be going in now." He lifted the police tape and tried to duck under, only to be grabbed by the collar.

"Now, listen here you little asshole-" John ripped his collar from her hand, turning just his head to give her the glare he had learned from Sherlock.

"I would appreciate if you didn't touch me." He spat coldly.

John didn't let her say anything else. He walked up the stairs to where he suspected Sherlock and Lestrade were.

He opened the door to see a woman lying dead on the floor. She was dressed in an annoying shade of pink.

"Sorry I'm late… Donovan wouldn't let me in… again…" He explained in place of a greeting.

"I'll talk to her." Lestrade knew John didn't like her.

"Thank you…" John rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Sherlock didn't acknowledge what John had said. He seemed to focused on the body. Suddenly he looked up.

"Well, John, what do you make of this?"

"O-Oh, um, let me have a look…" He knelt down.

"I'd say the cause of death was asphyxiation…"

"Oh, come now, John, we both know what this was." Sherlock reprimanded lightly.

John sighed. "You're right, it was poison. She may have been in the media based on her choice of… pink. Um, she's been in the rain recently… her collar is wet…" John reached into her pocket to find a dry umbrella. "So, she was recently somewhere rainy _and_ windy… um… I-I guess that's all." John put the umbrella back, blushing, hoping he did good.

"Good."

"Really?"

"You missed almost everything important, but I didn't expect that much." John deflated slightly.

"That was good with the recently rainy and windy part." Lestrade chirped from behind them. Apologizing with his eyes.

Sherlock launched into his deductions… She was a news person, she was a serial adulterer, she was unhappily married, the word she was trying to scrape into the floor was Rachel… and she had a case that was missing.

Sherlock left the room, ranting about the suitcase. John walked down the stairs to find Sherlock gone. He sighed and looked at his phone. He only had fifteen minutes to get to work.

John sighed a final time before going back in to tell Lestrade he was leaving.

"Why are you in such a rush?"

"Well, I was on my way to work when Sherlock texted me the address and told me to meet him here… I was going to be really early. Now I'm going to be late."

"I can drive you, if you'd like?"

"That's okay, I know you're working right now."

"It would be no trouble. We're finished here anyways." Lestrade said taking the contamination apron off.

"Well… if it would be no trouble… I would really, _really_ , appreciate it." John smiled.

"Let me just tell them I'm leaving." Lestrade smiled back.

"Thank you so much." Lestrade really was a good friend. John started to think he needed more friends his age… all of them were a lot older than he was.

* * *

When John got out of the car he was only a minute late. He said thank you to Lestrade for the hundredth time and walked in.

He said his hellos to the others then set off on his tasks for the night. John was usually early so the senior custodians let him slide for being a minute late.

He grabbed his mop and bucket then went up to the second floor.

He thought back on his day.

All in all it had been very eventful. He'd gotten a pen pal, he'd helped arrest a teacher, he'd learned of a serial killer, got to go to one of the crime scenes… John vaguely wondered if the teacher getting arrested would have any effect on the letters to the pen pals.

He wouldn't think so because he was pretty sure the letters were sent through the school, not the teachers… hopefully.

John had been really excited for the pen pal thing… He wondered if he really _had_ helped put his away.

"It would make things interesting, _that's_ for sure." He muttered under his breath.

When John was finished for the night he was tired. He almost wanted to text Sherlock and tell him he was spending the night at the school, but he persevered and went to catch a cab.

He picked up his phone and saw that he had nearly fifty notifications from Sherlock. All within the last five minutes.

John decided he should call Sherlock rather than read through all the texts _then_ reply.

It only rang once before John heard Sherlock's frantic voice.

" _John! Why didn't you answer any of my texts? Are you okay? You need to get home right now."_ He sounded frantic.

"Sherlock? I'm fine, I was working, I couldn't answer, plus I only just saw the texts. What's wrong?" Sherlock panicking was making John panic.

" _Get home right now. I think I know who the killer is."_ Sherlock hung up.

"Okay…?" John put his phone in his pocket and went to try and catch a cab.

Right when he got in he could tell something was off. The cabbie didn't ask the address before he started driving.

"Oh, bloody hell…" John said, pulling out his phone.

"Put that away." Was all the cabbie had to say.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me where we're going?" John said, putting his phone away.

"No, but nice try."

"Who you are…?" John tried.

"A genius like that flatmate o' yours."

"So _you're_ the one killing those people."

"Yes."

"That's not very nice."

"No, but I have my reasons."

John pulled his phone out slowly, hoping he could alert Sherlock to his most recent kidnapping.

"Give me your phone." John sighed and handed it up, just barely pushing send as he did. Now that Sherlock knew, he only had to wait.

They pulled up to a college building. The cabbie held a gun to John's head and walked him in.

When they were in a classroom, John spoke again. "What are those reasons?"

"The main one is to try to kill that Sherlock fellow." The cabbie said evenly.

"Oh… I can't say I approve of that."

"Good thing I don't care what you think."

John was tired. He wanted to go home. Wanted to curl up in bed and sleep. He also wanted to go because he knew he could get snappy when he was tired… he didn't think it was the best idea to sass a serial killer.

"So, what are the other reasons?"

"You know, you are very calm for getting kidnapped."

"What can I say, it happens a lot. Now, don't avoid the question."

The cabbie grinned, leaning forward. "I have a sponsor. They give me money every time I kill."

"Oh." John paused. He knew it was kind of insensitive, but so was kidnapping so it kind of balanced out. "So… estranged father…? I mean, you _are_ doing this for your kids… right?" He had noticed a picture of two boys. It was a vacation picture and the left side was ripped… like someone had been cut out. John assumed it was the mother.

"Hanging around that Sherlock is rubbing off, isn't it. Yes, it's for my kids."

John paused again, knowing this was a really touchy subject. "How long do you have to live…?"

The cabbie's eyes widened slightly. "I won't lie, I didn't think you'd get that. I suppose we can thank Sherlock for that as well." The cabbie smiled. "I had an aneurysm. Any second could be my last."

John tried not to be offended. Not _all_ his smarts were from Sherlock. "Oh… I'm sorry. Is it scary?"

The cabbie looked taken aback. "I suppose it was in the beginning… but I've accepted it now."

"Oh…"

"Enough stalling. You and I are going to play a game." He pulled out two pill bottles. "One of these contains poison. The other doesn't."

"That… doesn't sound like much of a game…"

"Here's the fun part. You pick whichever… and I take the other one."

"That… That seems a little unfair."

"That's life."

"What if I were to just get up and leave…?"

The cabbie sighed. "Ah, the unseen third option... I shoot you in the head. Funnily enough, none of the others went for that."

John eyed the gun up and down… it was fake. If it were real it would have a larger barrel. If it were a real gun, no bullets would be able to get through.

"What if I win… can I just leave?"

"Yes." The cabbie smiled again, putting the gun down.

"I'll… I'll choose the gun, please." John hoped he wasn't wrong.

The cabbie was shocked. "You keep surprising me. Are you sure?"

"Yes, please…"

"Phone a friend?"

"You took my phone… but yes I'm sure."

The cabbie pulled the trigger only for there to be a flame come out the end. John smiled.

"I knew it!" He laughed, getting up. "You're right. That _was_ pretty fun." Oh no. Here came the adrenaline junkie in him.

"The others were outsmarted by a kid. I'm impressed. I'm sure my sponsor will be too."

"Oh yeah, who is that, by the way?" John was standing behind his chair like he was gossiping.

"There's a name no one says. I'm not going to say it either."

"Oh, come _on_!" John pouted. He knew he should just ask for his phone and leave, but he was really curious.

"No." He seemed adamant.

"I wish I didn't have to do this." John sighed pulling out his gun.

"Oh, come now." The cabbie waved him off.

John sighed and forced himself to put the gun away. "You're right. Can I have my phone back please?" Once John left, he knew the cabbie would be going to jail for a very long time. Maybe _they'd_ be pen pals. That would be funny.

"Sure." This was definitely one of the better kidnappings John had been apart of.

He looked out the window, seeing Sherlock running to it. John left the cabbie sitting there, wanting to go meet Sherlock.

John got to the room he had seen Sherlock in only to find Sherlock was now sitting where he had sat not ten minutes ago. He saw the cabbie hold the fake gun to him.

Sherlock had chosen the same as him… John was proud he was the first though… He hoped the cabbie was bragging about him… John almost laughed. What a ridiculous thought.

The flame shot out of the gun's barrel. Sherlock didn't flinch. He stood and went to walk out… but paused… the cabbie was saying something.

Sherlock went and sat back down. He picked up a bottle and looked it up and down.

John panicked, pulling his gun from his belt. He wouldn't fire until he was sure Sherlock was going to make a stupid mistake.

Sherlock pulled out a pill and brought it to his face. Suddenly John couldn't take it and lined up his shot. He hit the cabbie dead on.

He then ducked out of the way. Sherlock didn't know he had a gun and he'd be damned if he let his flatmate take it from him.

He went and waited near Lestrade's police car, trying to act as shaken as possible.

Lestrade walked over, putting a blanket around John's shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

John looked up and made his eyes water a little. "Yeah, just a little in shock…"

"We're going to get Sherlock right now." Lestrade looked the John up and down.

Sherlock came over right then with a blanket around his shoulders as well. Lestrade said he'd be back in a few minutes for their statements.

John sat up a little straighter. "Hi, Sherlock."

"Hello, John. Are you okay?"

"I'm just in shock a little." John gestured to the blanket around his shoulders. "Are you…?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well you were just in a life or death situation…"

"So were you. Yet you aren't shaking, your speech isn't impaired, and you have pride written all over your face."

" …I hate when you do that."

"You know, he talked highly of you."

"He did?" John was really happy to hear that. Sure, he shot the man, but it was still nice to hear the cabbie hadn't hated him.

"Yes. He said I did a good job training you."

 _Oh…_ John wasn't as happy to hear that bit.

"Well, you did…"

"Even if I were to try to take credit, you were the one who made the deductions. I'm proud of you."

John blushed. He was really happy to make Sherlock proud of him…

"Good shot."

John jumped a bit. "Uh… yeah, must've been, from that distance…"

"You would know." Sherlock gave him a pointed look.

" … Please don't take my gun." John begged.

"How did you even get one?"

"It's not that hard…"

"I won't take it for now. You did just save my life."

John blushed again. He wasn't used to getting this much praise from his flatmate.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you did just kill a man."

" …Well he wasn't a very nice man…"

"No, I suppose not."

"And, frankly, he was a bloody awful cabbie. You should have _seen_ the route he took to get us here!" John giggled. He was so tired.

Sherlock laughed too. "Stop. We can't giggle at a crime scene."

Lestrade walked back over. "So, about the shooter. We don't know anything about him, care to fill us in on all the things we've missed?" He asked sarcastically.

"I don't know."

"What? _You_ don't know something? It's the end of the world!"

"Actually, no. John and I are both in shock, look we've got blankets." Sherlock shook the blanket around his shoulders.

"Blankets." John nodded and shook his too.

"Okay… well, I'll let you go. But you have to come in first thing tomorrow, Sherlock."

"Got it."

Both Sherlock and John walked away with their stolen blankets.

Once they were home John remembered something the cabbie had said.

"Oh yeah, Sherlock…"

"Yes, John?"

"Did you get to find out the name of the cabbie's 'sponsor'…?"

"Moriarty."

" …Do you know who that is?

"I have no idea. Could be dangerous. You ready?

"Always."

John smiled. This should be interesting.

* * *

 **How was it...? Too much rambling? Too much dialogue...? Not enough..?**

 **Do you want so see more or should I give up on this one and go back to my other ones for good...?**

 **Let me know...**

 **Sorry for all grammar and spelling mistakes...**

 **Have a nice day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! I just wanted to get a chapter up today. I know this chapter is a bit short... I'm sorry, but I'm hoping to put them out more often.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Though, I'm not sure if anyone has read this yet, I have high hopes!**

 **I don't own Sherlock (any incarnation...)**

 **I do own the plot line... and all my grammatical (and spelling) errors. Also.. This kinda seems OOC to me...**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

He was in jail. He was bored. He'd only been here a week and he was running it from the inside out. Looking around his cell, he sighed. He was only here to hide. At least until he was in the clear enough to resume his crown. He figured he only had about six months left. He had his right hand on the outside, posing as a normal person, but his right hand was currently running things. He knew his right hand could handle it. It's hard to get so high up and not get a little smart.

He could honestly break out any time of any day, just get up and go. It was nice… he only wished he wasn't with stuck such average people.

"You're all _boring_." He pouted. No one dared answer him. He let the guards think they still had control, so he still had to mingle with these petty drug dealers.

They were in the Rec. Room. They'd been told they were getting pen pals. Moriarty scoffed. They were being forced to write to _children_. They obviously don't know some of their prisoners. Namely, himself.

He knowing he could twist some innocent child's mind made him hope things would stop being boring.

Not a minute later they had their letters from their assigned pals… Moriarty opened his… as he read, his smile grew. By the end of it, it nearly split his face in half. He couldn't _believe_ his good luck. Maybe things _would_ stop being boring.

He took up his pen, grinning maniacally.

* * *

The response letters came on Wednesday. The current proxy for the teacher wasn't sure what they were supposed to be doing so they weren't allowed to get the letters until a day later.

John almost audibly sighed. He had been looking forward to this for nearly a week. He supposed he could wait one more day.

Until one day turned onto two, then three, then a week. Eventually the rest of the class had all but forgotten the letters. The substitute refused to give them the letters because he didn't agree with what the school was doing.

John didn't know what to do. He couldn't tell Sherlock, he'd support the teacher. Lestrade was out of the question, he'd tell Sherlock.

John decided to go to the office around lunchtime to see if they could do anything.

It appeared they could not. They allowed it, but did not enforce it. John would have to take matters into his own hands. All he had to do was sneak into the teacher's room after they were gone, break into the locked desk and find his letter. No problem. He and Sherlock had done far harder stuff.

It turns out that he was not yet sneaky enough on his own. He got caught by one of the other english teachers… To John's surprise, he agreed to help him.

John liked the teacher even more than he had. He'd never had this teacher for a class… Mr. Moran was relatively new, only started teaching at the beginning of this year, but the man did chaperone a club he'd joined. They'd instantly liked one another.

Mr. Moran was a veteran. A sniper, from what John had heard… He had a very commanding air about him and John wouldn't be surprised if he had been a higher up.

Mr. Moran unlocked the door _and_ stood guard. John was in and out before there could be a close call. He thanked the teacher and promised to bring cookies for him.

"Make them chocolate chip and I'll let you send your letters with my class." The teacher winked.

John grinned wide enough to show all of his teeth. He always made chocolate chip.

They went their separate ways. Mr. Moran to his classroom and John to the parking lot.

John was dying to open the letter, but he'd have to wait until he knew no one could see him. He was in to far for Sherlock to know… Now he was hiding something, and that _never_ went over well. This, was even more likely to get him punished.

John was walking home, trying not to bounce up and down. Sherlock was on a case right now, so he would either not be home or he would be too lost in his mind palace to notice John. John grinned. Normally he would hate that, but it did have its advantages. When he walked in the front door, Ms. Hudson was waiting for him.

"Hullo John, dear! Sherlock asked me to tell you he wouldn't be home tonight. He wants you to stay with me."

John sighed. So much for being left alone. He loved Ms. Hudson, don't get him wrong. But he was _dying_ to read this letter and respond. Maybe he could think of something.

"Actually Ms. Hudson… I have quite a bit of homework… Would it be alright if I went up, did it all then came back down…? I promise to help around the flat." He batted his eyelashes slightly.

"Well, I suppose. Just be down before too long. I wanted to know if you would like to help me make cookies." She looked slightly disheartened that John didn't want to go with her right away.

"Oh, I would love to! I actually promised one of my teachers that I would make him some chocolate chip ones… Would it be too much trouble to ask you to help me… I could never do that alone…" John fibbed a little. He could mostly because he helped Ms. Hudson so much.

"Of course dear!" She perked up right away.

"Fantastic! I'll be down before too long, I promise." John ran up the stairs as he said this.

When he was in the living room, he didn't wait to see if Sherlock actually was there. He had done that once to catch John off guard. It worked, needless to say.

John ran up the stairs to his room, not pausing until his door was locked. He dumped his school things on the floor, grabbing the letter.

John took a steadying breath as he opened it. He felt silly. He was acting as if it were a love letter or some nonsense…

John couldn't wait another second.

 _Dear Johnny-Boy,_

 _Hi! I'm fascinated to have this chance! Your last letter was absolutely_ adorable _! My name is James. I'm in for things you don't have permission to ask about. My hobbies include crime, crime and, apparently, getting caught. Haha!_

 _I plan to go back to crime when I get out._ If _I get out. I own pretty much everyone in here… I've only got one 'friend' on the outside. Great guy. I hope you never have to meet him!_

 _I'm not nearly as interesting as you are, it seems… so sorry to disappoint!_

You _live with Sherlock?! That's so cool! I'm just_ sure _you have some juicy stories to tell! From what I've heard he is the best of the best. I'm glad you haven't been hurt with how much you've been kidnapped._ Then _who would provide me with such cute letters?!_

 _I've only heard of your flatmate. I haven't had the pleasure (or displeasure) of meeting him. Yet._

 _I read your blog all the time! I think it's so adorable Sherlock lets his pet come along on cases._

 _Alright, my turn for questions! How's school? Do you have lots of friends? What makes you want to be a doctor? Hmmm I need another generic question. Oh! What's your favorite color? Mine changes on what my day is like._

 _Don't worry, little one. I won't tell your flatmate about our forbidden love!_

 _Haha!_

 _Until next time,_

 _~J_

John was stunned. And blushing. The letter made him uncomfortable. He got so many mixed feelings… He called John cute… which he didn't like, but he supposed it _was_ a compliment. Did his pen pal like him or not? John could see it argued either way right now… Some of the phrases made him upset. He wasn't Sherlock's pet. And why had he said 'forbidden love'? Was this James person just messing with him? How should John respond? Should he respond…? He couldn't ask anyone, they'd all tell Sherlock.

John sighed. He decided he didn't want to write a letter just yet. He wanted to process all of it first.

He put all of his things back in his bag and walked back down to Ms. Hudson. She was all set up for baking. John smiled, At least he didn't have to think about this James guy for a while.

* * *

 **Was it okay...? I know, kinda bland... Don't worry though. It gets better. Probably.**

 **See you all soon! *Crickets***

 **Uh... Anyway... Review, follow, fave... I don't know.**

 **Have a nice day!**

 **~Miss Taken**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! I'm not dead!**

 **Ah, quit booing. It'll happen soon enough.**

 **I don't own this! Well, I physically _wrote_ it, but I don't own the characters...**

 **The timeline is messed up, I know... I do hope it's not too terribly confusing though!**

 **Anyway, enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Moriarty was intrigued. He found himself looking forward to John's letter.

He had decided John was his until he was done figuring him out. Finding what makes him tick. Seeing what will make him scream. Finding out _how_ he screams.

Moriarty was excited. He couldn't _wait_ for this game to pick up.

Sitting in the warden's office, he found himself board. Suddenly he realized he knew only a minuscule amount about John Watson. He'd have to find more about him. And by him, he meant his pet.

He dialed Sebastian's number.

He picked up on the second ring.

" _Boss."_

"Hello, Sebby!"

" _What can I do for you?"_

"I need you to find everything, and I mean _everything_ , you can on someone."

There was a pause and Moriarty knew Sebastian was grabbing a pen and paper.

" _Name?"_

"John Watson."

Moriarty heard Sebastian drop the phone.

"Seb? Seeeebbbby~?" Moriarty was confused, which didn't happen often. The only reason he would not immediately do as told is if he didn't want to… the only reason he wouldn't want to is if he knew the person. That wouldn't be a problem unless Seb thought he had to kill them, as well. Though, to Sebastian's credit, he always did his job. So, in conclusion, Seb must already know John, and be on good terms with him.

That would make getting information all the easier for his righthand.

"Oh, don't worry. You don't have to kill him! Yet."

The phone was picked up. " _Understood, sir. I'll find everything."_

"And even if I _were_ to tell you to kill him, you would. Because that's you're _JOB_!" Moriarty yelled the last word.

" _...Understood, sir."_

"Good! That's all." Suddenly as if he had been talking about the weather.

The line was hung up before goodbyes. Not that there ever were any.

* * *

Moran sat at his computer. He rubbed his hands over his face. John was not in immediate danger… but if he was on Moriarty's radar, he was definitely in some kind of danger.

Moran sighed, then pulled up another tab. He spent the next hour compiling all the facts of John Watson.

However… as time went on, there was less and less. The only thing Moran could find was that he attended school, lived with Sherlock and was thirteen years old.

Moran searched for two hours. Those were the only things he could find. This was even more confusing. His whole job was research and security. If he couldn't find it, it didn't exist.

"Who _are_ you, Watson?"

Moran was going to have to give his Boss this limited amount of information and just _hope_ he didn't get fired or killed. Though, they were, admittedly, the same thing.

He would have to tail Watson for a few days to see what all the secrets were about. Starting tomorrow. He could keep an eye on him during and after school with little to no risks.

Sebastian Moran sighed once more. He needed to get out of this small flat for a while.

Maybe he'd finally go to the store. He had nothing but a box of stale crackers in his kitchen.

* * *

John didn't get around to the letter that night. Or the next day.

He didn't want to write another letter because he was afraid of the response he would get. The letters were due soon, but John couldn't bring himself to write. He wanted to ask someone what he should do, but he couldn't ask anyone without them telling someone else.

John felt trapped. Could he just not write a letter? But then his pen pal would not be given the chance to get help (not that John could really offer much), and John couldn't do that to him.

Plus, if John didn't write a response, James might think he scared him away. John was not going to let that happen. He sighed and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.

 _Dear James,_

 _Hello! I'm happy to have received a response from you! I know a few of my mates didn't receive one. Which is odd, isn't it mandatory? It is for us… if our teachers say it is. I'm actually a little upset about that. Our original teacher, who was fired-_

John hesitated in writing why the teacher was fired. In the end, it didn't seem like something James needed to know. John continued with his letter.

 _-made it mandatory and is was nearly 50 points every letter! But our sub for the rest of the year said we shouldn't be exposed to corrupt people like you (no offence)._

 _I tried asking the office if the sub could legally not give us the letter, they said yes. The school only allowed it. They didn't demand it. So I'm sending mine with my favorite teacher's class. He's great. His name is Mr. Moran. He helped me break into the sub's room and get your letter. He's not actually my teacher, but I wish he were! He's a very interesting person. He was in the army and was a sniper! He tells me stories sometimes. I don't know what I did to deserve his help, though. I wouldn't ever have been able to get this letter to you!_

 _I made cookies to thank him. He likes chocolate chip the best._

 _Sorry, that was a long winded response. I just haven't been able to t_ _ell anyone. So, I guess that kind of answers your first question…_

 _Um, I don't know about a_ lot _of friends… but I'm a friendly person who people consider a friend even if I don't consider_ them _one. Wow… that sounds a lot more conceded on paper… Sorry! But I suppose Sherlock counts, Greg-_

John didn't want to mention Lestrade's last name for privacy... He also didn't say 'Mr.' because he wanted it to sound like he had friend's his age...

 _-And Mrs. Hudson. I guess Mary is my friend, but I think she just wants me to be her boyfriend. Mr. Moran is defiantly a person I'd consider a friend, too! I have fewer friends than I thought... I have an idea! Since you only have one friend and I have only a few, do you want me to be your friend too? I think we'd make great friends!_

"As long as you quit saying really weird stuff..." John said out loud. He wasn't going to write that, but he felt it should be added in some sense.

 _-I want to be a doctor because I've seen what the poorer parts of town look like. I've seen things most people are lucky enough to never see. I've sewn wounds (my own included). Even if I can't help everyone, I'm going to try my best._

 _My favorite color is red._

 _My turn for questions! What made you turn to crime? Who's your friend? How'd you get caught? Did you like school when you attended?_

 _Last question, why do you keep calling the things I do 'cute'? I'm as far from that as possible._

 _Your Pen Pal,_

 _-John H. Watson_

 _P.s. I am_ not _Sherlock's pet._

John finished the letter. He was kind of worried how easy it had actually been to write it. And how much he really wanted a response. He sighed and went to the kitchen. Sherlock had left some time in the early morning, leaving a note for John that he'd be home sometime around midnight and that John was responsible for the house and to go see Ms. Hudson for a while.

John sighed. It was Sunday, they were usually boring unless Sherlock had a case, but without Sherlock in the flat, it was downright suffocating. He wondered what Sherlock could be doing.

John stopped that train of thought immediately. It just made him envious that Sherlock probably wasn't bored.

John nearly wished he'd had school. He sat down on the couch with a bowl of cereal, turning the telly on as background noise. He decided to go down to Ms. Hudson after he got ready for the day.

He ate slowly. Thoughts consuming him. Who was James? Was it someone he'd heard about in the news? Why was John so fascinated by him? How badly _would_ Sherlock react if he found out?

John's mind swirled around like that for a while. He looked up, surprised that it had been nearly an hour. He washed the kitchen up a bit, shuddering at the fingers in a cottage cheese container, before going up to get dressed for the day.

He hoped Ms. Hudson had errands for him to run. John really didn't want to be inside the whole day.

He walked down the stairs, wearing a standard jumper, some old jeans, and his 'everyday' shoes (he had ones for cases so his others weren't at risk of getting blood on them).

Knocking on Ms. Hudson's door, his mind wandered back to James. John really wished he could stop thinking about his pen pal, but he just couldn't.

He stood a moment longer before knocking again. Same result. No answer. He tried the door knob, it was unlocked. John was starting to get nervous. He walked in.

On the kitchen table he saw a note in Ms. Hudson's handwriting.

 _Dear John,_

 _Sorry! Something came up with my sister. I'm at the hospital now._

 _I won't be home until late today, if I come back tonight. Please feel free to make yourself at home! If you leave, please make sure to lock my door. You still have your key, I hope?_

 _-Martha_

Well, that was something. John tried to look for signs of forced entry or a struggle, but he wasn't as trained as Sherlock, so if there were any signs, he missed them.

John sighed. He looked around once more, then walked out of the flat, locking the door on the way out.

He walked up stairs to grab his phone and wallet. He had a little bit of money from doing odd jobs around the block. John was on pretty good terms with everyone.

John decided to go walk through the park to pass some time. He never really got to anymore.

He double checked he had his phone set as loud as the ringer could go, and that he had his key, before he began his journey.

John thought of texting one of his friends, but he decided not to. It wasn't often he got time to himself, so John planned to take full advantage of it.

While he walked, John was alone with his thoughts. His mind circled back around to James. How could a man he's never even met be so interesting? So outside the box… he was reminded of Sherlock.

John nearly stopped walking. What if this was a test? What if it _was_ Sherlock? If this was one of his little games to see how long it would take for John to tell him. But, it couldn't be, could it?

John was so caught up in his thoughts, he ran right into someone, falling to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" John hadn't looked up yet, slightly dazed, having the wind knocked out of him.

John felt a strong hand grab his arm, pulling John to his feet with no problems at all.

"It's not a problem, John." John froze. Speak of the devil and he shall appear...

"Oh, hello, Sherlock…" John finally looked up, seeing his flatmate's bruised face. So he _had_ been doing something not boring after all…

"Why aren't you at home?"

"Well, Ms. Hudson wasn't there. She had to go to the hospital because her sister is there she won't be home tonight, probably… I was heading to… the park?" John looked at the ground, finding the cracks fascinating, he didn't mean for it to sound like a question, but he didn't like Sherlock's scrutinizing gaze. John was worried Sherlock would read his mind and see what he had been thinking not two seconds before.

"John, that sounded like a question."

"I was going to the park." John looked Sherlock in the eye, trying to keep his voice steady. It wasn't like he was confined to the flat… no matter how much it may have felt that way sometimes.

"Better. Now, you really must watch where you're going. It's no wonder you get kidnapped so often."

"I'll pay more attention…" John shuffled his feet.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some ducks to interrogate." John was confused, but realized that was the only explanation he was getting. "I'll be home a little later than originally planned. Will you be alright at home by yourself for one night?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely _no_ parties, am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." John gave a mock salute, but he really didn't plan to have a party. There were too many body parts in the fridge to have people over. Sherlock smirked. They both knew there would be no parties.

"Come back home in one piece" John said over one shoulder.

"You too. The park can be dangerous."

"Yes. I may fall of the playset and break an arm." John smirked.

Sherlock huffed. "You know what I mean."

John softened. "Yeah. I do. Go be a badass."

"Watch your language. It's unbecoming of a young man." The edge of Sherlock's mouth twitched up, letting John know he was being teased. John smiled at him.

Without another word from either, they parted ways.

John sighed. It was just his luck. Now he _knew_ Sherlock was doing something cool… without John! Suddenly going to the park seemed boring. John tried to think of what to do.

"I guess I could go to the store…" He said to himself. It seemed like the best thing to do. It gave him something to do while also being productive. They needed tea, some biscuits, and, as always, milk. For one reason or another, the milk was always gone within the first day or two of John buying it.

John just assumed Sherlock used it in some sort of experiment. It sounded like a Sherlock thing to do.

John got to the store shortly after, walking around, picking things up, putting them back, picking them back up. The usual. John just wanted to waste some time.

He had spent a solid forty minutes deciding if he should get one or two cartons of milk. He decided on one because he had to walk back to the flat with other groceries as well.

John finished getting what he needed and started the trek up to the register. Deciding at the last second to get the second carton of milk. One for Sherlock, one for actual consumption. The flat wasn't that far away.

He paid and left the store. Hurrying home without rushing. John wanted to get home, so he didn't drop anything, but once he was home, he didn't know what he would do.

Put the shop away, clean a little… then what? He had no homework, he had nothing he had to do, no one to cook for but himself.

As John was thinking, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Before he could turn around or react, he was pulled into an alley and his bags were on the ground, but that was the least of his worries.

John was slammed to the ground, his head hit hard. His attacker then slammed his head a second time, harder. Probably a slight concussion.

The attacker punched John in the face, once, twice, three times, a probable broken nose, then he hauled John up by his hair and roughly shoved him into the brick, face first so he still couldn't see his assailant. John's arm was twisting in a way that didn't feel right. Any more pressure and his left arm would be popped out of socket.

The guy had John's arms pinned behind him with one hand, and pushed his head harder into the brick with the other hand. John's arm finally gave out, being popped from it's socket. His attacker didn't seem to notice, or maybe he just didn't care. Either way, it hurt like hell. John screamed. Or thought he did. He couldn't tell.

The man leaned in close to John's ear and roughly ground out the beginning of a threat. "You tell that no good Sherlock-" The guy was cut off. Suddenly John was free. John fell to the ground, limp and barely holding on to consciousness

He looked up, seeing the new guy -he looked sort of familiar but John was dizzy and couldn't put a name to the face- punch John's attacker so hard he was knocked out cold.

John had a few seconds before he was unconscious as well. He was at the mercy of whoever this newcomer was.

The last thing John saw was the new person turn to look at his fallen body.

His last thought; "At least this wasn't boring. Too bad the milk exploded when it fell… I'll have to buy more later."

Then John was out.

* * *

Sebastian had gone to the store, while he was there, he saw John. His new target. Moran decided he'd start following John today instead of tomorrow, they were both already there.

Moran followed John around the store. It was annoying as hell watching the kid shop. He walked around, picking things up, walking a few isles over, turned around and then put said item _back_. It was annoying the first two times. The next three were _infuriating_. The kid stood and looked at milk for nearly an _hour_.

Sebastian was fed up. He was patient, it came with the job, but this _kid_ somehow made it very hard to be patient. John didn't even seem to be doing it intentionally.

'Does this kid really have nothing better to do with his time?' Seb thought to himself. Then he though. 'No, I guess he wouldn't.' Sebastian refused to not be mad about it though.

Finally, _finally_ , John walked up to the register. Only to turn around and get _more milk_.

Then, John left. He looked like he was struggling quite a bit, but he didn't seem bothered. Moran almost wanted to offer help, but then he'd have to make an excuse as to why he was there.

He paid for his groceries, then followed the same way John had gone, staying about thirty paces away. John didn't look like he'd notice if Sebastian were standing right next to him, but better safe than sorry.

Suddenly, John was gone from his sights. Sebastian had seen a hand pull the young kid into the alleyway. John's bags had been dropped and the milk was everywhere.

Sebastian sprung into action, weaving in and out of the crowd. He was a big man, but he'd had much practice, so he was there in less than twenty seconds.

It seemed he was twenty seconds too late, though. John had blood gushing from his nose, and he looked dazed. There was blood in his hair too, from what Sebastian could see. His arm looked wrong. Sebastian assumed it was broken, but he could get a better feel for the extent of the injuries on a few moments. After he kicked this asshole's ass.

He grabbed the attacker by the neck, nearly lifting him off the ground as he moved him away from John.

Sebastian wanted to kill the guy, but John needed help right away, so a quick, but powerful, fist to the temple was all it took for the asshole to be knocked out.

John looked up at him, but it was clear he didn't recognize him. Sebastian didn't know what to do… he couldn't leave the kid here in an alley, bleeding… Baker Street was a ways off… They were much closer to Sebastian's own flat.

Sebastian sighed again. It looked like he was going to be having a guest.

Forget being in danger from being on the Boss's list… this kid was the definition of 'trouble magnet'

Sebastian picked the kid up in one arm, and what was salvageable from both of their bags in the other. He knew John would be mad if he didn't grab anything.

Sebastian set out towards his flat.

Boss would want to know about this ASAP… but John needed help. That was priority number one.

* * *

 **Slight cliffhanger, I guess...**

 **Sorry!**

 **So, how was it? I intend to continue this, hopefully with more frequent updates...**

 **We'll see.**

 **Have a nice day!**

 **~Miss Taken**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, sorry I've been gone a while... This chapter is a little longer though...**

 **Sorry for any and all mistakes.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Sebastian walked through the door, setting the kid on the couch so he could get a better look at the damage done.

The kid had a broken nose, his shoulder seemed out of place and he definitely had a concussion. To say Sebastian was pissed was an understatement, it made him wish he _had_ killed the asshat that did this. Sebastian would be tracking him down later.

He got a glass of water and the first aid kit. He popped the kids shoulder back into place and set his nose. The kid didn't really stir at this. It was worrying but the concussion was something he couldn't really do anything about until John woke up.

Sebastian sighed and went to put what was left of their things away. He wasn't letting the kid out of his sight until he was _sure_ John was okay. Even then he might not.

After putting the few things in the fridge and checking on John again, he decided it was time to call in and notify the Boss.

The phone rang barely once before it was picked up.

" _Sebby! I knew you worked quick, but that was impressive even for you!"_

Sebastian took a deep breath. "Yeah, about that, Boss, I knew you'd want to know. There is nothing on this kid. I checked everywhere. I can't find anything but his residence, age, and where he goes to school. And all of those are very common knowledge." Sebastian would wait to see how his Boss took this news before telling him the kid had also been nearly killed.

The guy who was sent to 'rough him up' was very incompetent. He was supposed to send a message, and very nearly killed the messenger. It made Sebastian's blood boil again. Incompetence would get someone killed. It very nearly _had_.

" _I'll see if I can find anything."_ The Boss seemed to take that really well. Sebastian wondered if the Boss was secretly pleased to have something to do. " _But I can tell there's something else you wanted to say. Well, go on. I haven't got all day!"_ Even though they were both painfully aware that he _did_ , in fact, have all day.

"I figured I'd tail the kid, see if I could learn anything else. I found him, tailed him for a while, then I had to save him from one of the people Sherlock has scorned." The eye roll could be heard in that statement. "The guy almost killed the kid. If I hadn't stepped in, you would no longer have to worry about getting information."

Sebastian was trying to manipulate the manipulator. He wanted the Boss to tell him it was his duty to protect this kid.

" _Hmm. New plan. Protect the kid. He's interesting. He's not allowed to die before I say so!"_ The Boss giggled.

It worked. Though, Sebastian knew it was because that's what the Boss wanted it too.

" _Oh, and Sebby?"_ Sebastian almost held his breath.

" _NEVER try to do that again, okay, pet? You do what I say. You don't_ get _to make suggestions. And you definitely don't get to use me."_ The Boss's voice was low and dangerous.

"Yes, Sir." Sebastian waited for any more instructions, then, he heard a click and knew the Boss had hung up.

He turned to John's unconscious form, smirking a little. "Well, kid, looks like I'm your new guardian angel."

* * *

When John woke up, at first he couldn't even tell anything was wrong. As he became more aware, he realized he was on a couch. He normally fell asleep on the couch, so that wasn't odd… he had aches everywhere, but, again, nothing out of the usual.

He heard someone clicking away on a computer. It was odd for Sherlock not to wake him up, but John was greatful. He wasn't feeling so hot.

"Sh'rlock?" The clicking stopped. Sherlock wouldn't stop his typing, he would just continue and talk to John at the same time. Or ignore John completely.

John was groggy and nothing made sense. He would assume he'd been drugged, but that had happened before. This was different. His head hurt. He couldn't open his eyes. The light hurt to much. He started to remember. He had been attacked in the alleyway. So. He'd possibly been kidnapped. Or Sherlock found him and brought him home. John tried to get up, but found he couldn't. He must be tied down. Kidnapped it was, then.

Someone got up. They were definitely much bigger than Sherlock. The footsteps were those of a larger, heavier man.

John forced his eyes open, trying to move again. Panic was rising fast. He quickly closed his eyes again.

"Hey, John, you with me, kid?" John heard a familiar voice, but he couldn't place it.

" 'Ere's Sh'rlock?"John cursed his inability to speak clearly. He tried to get up, he even managed to sit up a little before a big hand pushed him down to the couch again.

"Easy, there, kid. Don't worry. It's Sebastian. Moran. I saw you get dragged into an alley, and proceed to be heroic and save you." Mr. Moran sounded like he thought that was funny. John couldn't tell why, though. John slowly opened his eyes, albeit, not much.

"Mr. Moran?"

"Yeah, you can call me Sebastian, though. It's not like I'm actually your teacher and we aren't at school."

"Wh-where are we? Where's Sh-Sherlock? What h-happened to that guy? Why are you here?"

"Wow. You ask a lot of questions. Well, we're at my place. I'm here because it's my place. It's shitty, I know, don't comment on it." Sebastian paused to look around disdainfully. "I don't know know where the good ol' detective is. The guy who jumped you got his lights knocked out by yours truly."

"What happened?"

"Well, like I said, I saw you get dragged into the alley, and I couldn't let that happen to a student, especially one I like." John had a hard time believing that. This guy looked like he'd join in if he felt like it… But John wouldn't question it. He was counting his blessings that Mr. Moran had stepped in at all. "I got there a few seconds too late. You got a broken nose, your shoulder popped out of socket and I'm pretty sure you have a concussion."

"Well, that explains why everything hurts." John said.

"You're forming cohesive sentences, so, I think it was a very slight one, if one at all."

John nodded, doing a mental checklist. He had done quite a bit of research on basic health things.

"How long have I been out…?" John asked.

"Only about half an hour."

John concluded that he had a mild one. He thanked his head for being so hard.

"I'd say it was mild. I lost consciousness, was sensitive to light, and had sluggish movements upon waking… but, uh, other than that, nothing."

John suddenly felt awkward. "Um, Thank you for, ya know, rescuing me…"

"Don't mention it. Let's just hope it doesn't happen again."

John knew they both mentally added 'Yeah, right.' but the sentiment was nice. John almost laughed. Sentiment was hard to come by in his life. Sherlock never showed it, Mrs. Hudson's seemed like a babysitter most of the time. Greg was more like a distant uncle…

Sebastian seemed genuine. He seemed like he really meant what he said, no matter _what_ he said.

"So, want me to take you back now? Of course, you can stay as long as you like." Sebastian had gotten up and walked back over to his computer, powering it down.

"I-Uh, I can walk myself back, but thank you." John really didn't want to impose anymore than he already had.

"Nonsense. I have no problem walking you back. Though, I was thinking more of getting a cab… I'm not sure you should be walking."

"Oh, no, no! I-it's really alright." John tried to get up.

"When's Sherlock going to be back?" Sebastian's question stopped John. How did he know Sherlock wasn't at the flat?

"Don't worry. I'm not stalking you. It's kind of obvious… You kept asking about him, meaning you haven't seen him in a while and don't know when you will. Therefore, you don't know where he his, meaning he's _not_ at home." Sebastian waved him off, spouting as though it was a natural thing to do.

"… Can everyone do that…?"

"I learned from… a friend of mine. He's much better."

"Oh." John hoped the question about Sherlock would be forgotten, but, alas, no such luck.

"So? When is he going to be there? I'd like to speak with him, if possible."

"He-uh, he's on a case… he said he wouldn't be home until late… so he probably won't be there until tomorrow…"

"Is there any adult there?" Sebastian kept his voice steady, but John could tell he was mad.

"Well, Mrs. Hudson was supposed to, but her sister is in the hospital…"

"So, no? Well, that settles it. You're staying here with me tonight."

"Uh, Mr. Moran, I- I don't think-"

"You got assaulted less than an hour ago. I don't feel comfortable leaving you by yourself and I highly doubt you have anywhere else to go." He gave a look that dared John to tell him otherwise.

He didn't have anywhere else. Lestrade said he was always welcome… but John could never impose. Lestrade often had business and when he didn't he was trying to fix his failing marriage…

John knew the teacher was trying to help, but he couldn't help but feel paranoid. Panic was starting to well up inside him again.

It looked like Sebastian could see that though. "John, I'm not going to make you. If you insist on returning home, I won't stop you. However, I would like if I could keep you in my sights. I know some people who would hurt you really bad if they knew what you meant to some higher ups." Sebastian winced at what he had said, and quickly continued trying to cover it up. "I really don't want to see you hurt. Think of me as a bodyguard." Sebastian smiled a shark's smile that would frighten anyone… But John found it comforting.

John didn't fully understand what he meant by 'what you meant to some of the higher ups' But, it at least meant someone was looking out for him. He wouldn't have even noticed it if Sebastian hadn't made a big deal out of it. Not that he did… John could read people pretty alright… but where Sherlock was facts, John was emotions. That's why they made such a lovely couple. John blushed. _Wrong choice of words… Focus, John!_

John took a deep breath, looking up at Sebastian. "Okay, if you're sure I won't be imposing… May I stay here for tonight…?"

"But of course. You best tell Sherlock where you are though. I Wouldn't want to have him as an enemy." Sebastian laughed. John laughed too, but he wasn't sure why. He supposed he was exhausted.

He pulled out his phone and shot a text to Sherlock.

 _ **Spending the night at a friend's tonight.**_

 _ **-JHW**_

John put his phone down to look at Mr. Moran, but it looked like he was busy.

Not a second later John got a reply text.

 _ **U have school tmrw**_

 _ **-SH**_

John had forgotten it was Sunday. He wondered if Sherlock could be swayed.

 _ **It's a school friend. He's helping me on an English assignment.**_

 _ **-JHW**_

John technically wasn't lying. Mr. Moran _was_ his friend. John fully intended to ask him about the letters, as well.

 _ **No skipping school. Txt if u need me.**_

 _ **-SH**_

That was all sherlock had to say. John was in the clear.

 _ **Yes sir.**_

 _ **-JHW**_

No response beyond that.

"Uh, M-Mr. Moran… do you think I-" Sebastian raised his head and gave a look. "Uh, _we_ could stop at my flat… I need clothes and my bookbag for tomorrow…"

"No problem. We'll stop over after dinner. Speaking of, what would you like?"

"O-Oh. I'm not very picky…" John felt rather awkward. He wasn't used to staying at a friends house… let alone the fact that this friend happened to be an adult.

John felt small.

"You can relax, you know. I don't plan to kill you or do anything malicious…" Sebastian looked like he wanted to laughed again, but didn't seeing how it was putting John on edge.

"Yeah… Not so used to being other places but my flat."

"I understand. I can guarantee you will be safe here, if that makes it better."

John nodded, pleased that he had such nice people in his life.

"How about we make pizza? I actually have stuff to make it from scratch… Not the frozen shi- Uh, Stuff." John perked up immediately. He hadn't had 'real' food in so long. It was always take away… it was easier than to risk using Sherlock's lab equipment (the pots and pans). John, again, nodded furiously. "We can see who can make the best, but I don't think there will be a contest. I'm _obviously_ going to win." He smirked.

The prospect of a challenge only won him over all the more. John _knew_ he could make a better pizza.

John hopped up, wobbling as he tried to walk into the kitchen to stand next to Sebastian. Standing still without shaking was a bit had, but that wasn't going to stop him. After washing his hands, they stood in silence while Sebastian got the ingredients out, John shifting from one foot to the other. When it was all on the counter Sebastian looked down at John, noticing for the first time how small John actually was. John could see him almost offered to find a step stool… but opted out at the last second, deciding that seemed rude.

"Okay. I like silence, but I know kids don't… and, honestly, this is putting me on edge. I'm obviously not great around kids… but I think I know the basics. So… wanna play a game?" Sebastian asked. It certainly cleared up some of the awkward silence, which John was grateful for.

John found it a little strange that he wasn't good with children… considering he was a teacher, but he figured he wasn't good with kids either and he _was_ a kid.

"Sure. What kind of game?"

"Well, it's a question game. I ask you a question, you have to answer honestly. Then you ask me a question, I have to answer honestly. If you think I'm lying, call me out. Trust me, I won't hesitate to do the same. If the asker calls you out on a lie, you have to answer truthfully or skip.

"Any and all questions are allowed to be asked… you can have three skips. You can't ask the same question if the person skips it. If the asker isn't satisfied with the answer, they can ask for details… but you only get two of those, that being said, you can make the question as specific as you want. We can play while we make dinner to pass the time."

John thought about it. It did sound like fun… but he was concerned about what kinds of questions would be asked. He decided to voice his worry.

"Well, anything is allowed… but it won't be anything horrible… plus, you've got your skips if you feel uncomfortable."

"Alright." John knew there was an ulterior motive… but the teacher had just as much to loose, so it seemed like a fair trade. "Who goes first?"

"I'll ask first." Sebastian thought for a second, but John knew he wouldn't have suggested this game without already having a few. "How are you doing in school? I don't mean just grades. I mean, friends, girlfriends, or, ya kaow, boyfriends, I won't judge, extra curricular, besides the one I proctor, of course."

Sebastian handed John a can of croissant dough. John thought of his answer. He wanted it to answer all of Sebastian's questions, but he wanted to not ramble on and on.

When the dough was spread in front of both of them, they put the toppings where they both could reach them before John answered.

"Well, I have pretty great grades… my… Uh, _circumstances_ make it difficult to do homework, but I'm pretty sure I only have one B… all the rest are A's.

"My only activity after school, besides yours, is a homework club that I attend when I know I won't have time after leaving the building.

"I don't have many friends… They all think I'm weird for having a flat with Sherlock. They look at me like I'm from another planet… I try to be nice. They still hate me though…" John thought of how his letter to James was very similar before continuing.

"I have Mike… And I guess Mary, but I think she only wants me to be her boyfriend…I just want to be her friend though. I don't mind that I don't have many friends at school. I have Lestrade, Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, you and I think my pen pal can be considered a friend. Though, he's a bit more concerning."

"Well, be careful who you extend your friendship to… Some of those prisoners are bad news." Here, Sebastian smirked. John was catching on to all his little quirks. He decided that was going to be one of his questions.

"My turn." John decided to get his question that he was obligated to tell so he couldn't be called a lier. "So… My pen pal, as I said… I- I'm kinda concerned… See, he called me Sherlock's pet…" Sebastian's eyebrows raised, only a little, but John saw. That meant he knew something. John almost laughed, so he switched his voice to as robotic and monotone as possible, not really succeeding. "He said some other bizarre stuff too. I'm a little nervous to keep being his pen pal. What do you think I should do?" John said it as if he were in class, reading from a note card.

Then he quietly added. "I have to ask this question, I told Sherlock I was staying with a friend from school for help with an English assignment…" He trailed off.

He didn't know how Sebastian would take that. Would he chew him out for being a bad kid? Would he be disappointed with John for bending the truth?

Oh, no. What if he made John _call_ Sherlock right now to explain?

John looked down, he could feel his face turning red. He tried to lose himself in the pizza competition. He used a thin layer of sauce on the pizza dough, then put as much cheese as seemed feasible. And then some. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sebastian shaking a little. John flinched like he was going to get yelled at or hit.

To his amazement, and confusion, Sebastian laughed… he laughed so hard he had to put the pepperoni down as he gripped his sides, nearly toppling over.

Sebastian had a very deep laugh. It was infectious, too. John laughed, nervously at first, but then it became genuine.

This was fun. _Real_ fun. He never did this with Sherlock… The older man was always far too busy. He admired the stupid genius more than anything… but he could be so selfish sometimes.

When they _did_ talk, it was more like John was a sound board for Sherlock. John felt _involved_ in this conversation. John didn't mind that, but this was a beautiful change of pace.

He also got the feeling that Sebastian also didn't laugh like this very often.

"I mean-" He gasped for breath, wiping a nonexistent tear from his eye. "You _technically_ told the truth." He laughed again. "John. That is the hardest I've laughed in about ten years. I think I pulled something."

"I think you'll be fine." John pointed to himself with a thumb. "Trust me. I'm a future doctor."

Sebastian laughed again. "Kid, you're going to be the death of me, I swear." He took a deep breath and had to force himself not to laugh again.

"To answer your 'question'" Sebastian added air quotes. "I think you should keep in touch. As long as they aren't threats, and you feel comfortable, I say keep it up. The prison and the school both stop anything too horrible to be written, but if it does get by them, you bring it to me and I'll go talk to them. Personally." Sebastian nearly growled, dumping more pineapple on his pizza than he probably meant to.

"Sweet. I'm in the lead!" John laughed.

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

"First, pineapple doesn't go on pizza. Second, you dumped nearly the whole _can_ on it. _Including_ the juice. Even die hard pineapple lovers wouldn't enjoy that!" John looked at the small mountain of pineapple on his opponent's pizza.

"Are you kidding? Pineapple goes on _everything_. Besides, have you _seen_ how much shredded cheese yours has?"

"I am well aware. If you didn't need cheese too, you can bet your ass I'd use it all."

"You _are_ aware that the bag is an eight cup bag… right?"

"Fully."

"You are a menace, John Watson."

"Tell that to pineapple mountain over there!"

"… Point taken. Anyway, my turn." Sebastian, again, seemed to mull over what he could ask. John realized he was thinking of what _order_ to ask them. Not _what_ to ask.

"Got it. Why don't you want that Mary girl to be your girlfriend?"

"I don't think I'm ready to become a womanizer. Yet. I've got at least _one_ more year of being pure." John laughed.

"That's a lie." Sebastian gave a stern look, asking for a better answer.

"Haha… you got me… Well… that _is_ a reason… I think I'm just scared. I live a dangerous life because of Sherlock. I would never forgive myself if she were to get hurt. She's a tough girl. Strongest I know… but when you're at gunpoint, strength isn't everything…A-also, um, girls aren't really my… _area_ … which is fine! Um, but I may or may not have a crush on someone else anyway…" John blushed, that was the first time he had said it out loud. He was hoping Sebastian didn't ask who. John decided right then and there he would use a skip on that question if it came up, if he still had skips.

But Sebastian seemed satisfied. "Better. Your turn."

"Why did you pick being a teacher after the army? You seem like you can do anything… why teach us dumb kids?"

"Well. Uh, in case you haven't noticed, most kids grow up eventually… If I have to deal with them in the real world when the time comes, they better be ready. I would go on a killing spree if they were _all_ idiots." Sebastian muttered something dark, but John didn't catch it.

John didn't know why, but he didn't believe Sebastian. Something seemed wrong… And Sebastian had called _him_ out not a minute before… Besides, what's he got to lose?

" _That's_ a lie." John put one hand on his hip and with the other, he pointed a finger at Sebastian condescendingly.

Sebastian looked truly surprised. "Uh, well, you got me, kid… let me think of an appropriate answer…" John nodded, looking back at the beautiful pizza he had created. He moved some cheese around to make it perfect.

"Okay." When Sebastian said that, John looked up, giving his undivided attention. "This job is actually my cover. I have a different job, no, you can't know. If you ask that as your next question, I'll skip."

John nodded. He wasn't really _happy_ with the answer, but it was better than being lied to.

"What's your pen pal's name?" Sebastian kept his voice light, but John heard something else. It sounded like fear and anticipation.

"James."

"No last name?"

"No…"

Sebastian turned from John, turing the oven on.

"I guess I should have let this preheat while we were making these…"

"Yeah… but it's okay! My turn." John knew what he wanted to ask… but he didn't know if Sebastian would skip it. He didn't like the skips if they weren't working for him…

"Do you know my pen pal? Or, do you _think_ you know him? James said something about having only one friend on the outside… he didn't say a name though…Are you that friend?" John realized he was about to start rambling and quickly shut his mouth to let Sebastian answer or pass this question.

"Well… I don't know about 'friends'… But, yes, I think the James we both know are one and the same." He didn't elaborate. John didn't ask him to.

"Since we're getting into more personal stuff… Why do you live with Sherlock Holmes?"

John had been dreading this question.

"That's a, uh, that's a long story…" John didn't want to be a wimp, but that story was hard to tell.

"We've got time."

"I-I can't… Um, I'll s-skip that one…"

Sebastian merely nodded.

"This doesn't count as my question… but is it my turn to ask a question… or is it still your turn to ask?"

"Your turn."

"Okay. Why is James in pris-" Sebastian cut him off.

"Skip."

"O-oh. okay…"

"Sorry. If he wants to tell you, he will. That's not my business."

"Oh… I understand."

"Where's your family?"

John, again, was hesitant on this question. That was a big part of why he skipped the last question… but he supposed he could tell a little…

"W-well… my sister, Harry, is in university, last I heard… I haven't seen her in a while though, so maybe not." John jumped at the oven went off, nearly screaming. Sebastian didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry you aren't on good terms with her."

"So am I." John said somberly. He was glad Sebastian didn't ask about his parents. John shook his head, clearing away the dull that had been in his eyes. "What do you do for fun?"

"I don't. I'm always on duty. I only recently came into some free days… it's very boring. I really _should_ get a hobby." Sebastian said while putting both pizzas in the oven. " I enjoy my work… most of the time. But I wouldn't call it _fun_."

"I can understand that. I feel the same about school."

"In your case, I'd say school is probably a more dangerous than my job is." Sebastian started to laugh again. It was an angry laugh, but John knew it wasn't aimed towards him. Even still, it put John on edge.

Sebastian stopped, and added to his answer. "I suppose I clean my gun. Though, that's more of a priority than something I do for fun."

"Cleaning guns can be a great distraction though." John let the comment slip before he could stop it. Sebastian gave a suspicious look, but didn't comment.

John realized that meant Sebastian probably had a very dangerous job. But, as much as John wanted to ask, Sebastian said he'd skip it, so it got him nowhere.

"My turn." Sebastian put both of the pizzas into the oven while talking. "Do you like living with Sherlock?"

"Yes. I do." John didn't hesitate. He blushed at how quickly he answered… but it didn't change his response.

For all of their ups and downs, John really did like Sherlock… more than he probably should. John couldn't help it though. There were so many good qualities about Sherlock… they far outweighed the bad.

Sebastian nodded like he understood, then motianed for John to ask.

"Um, how did you and James meet?"

Sebastian sighed, John thought he would skip this question too. Then, Sebastian took a breath.

"Well, after I got back from the army, I was in a very bad place. It's actually astonishing I didn't kill someone during that time. He found me, offered me a job and helped me get back on my feet. I owe him my life… though I'd say I've paid that back. I mostly stick around because I like where I am now. And, if I left, I would go back to being nothing."

"Oh…" John didn't really have a response to that.

"My turn. _Why_ do you like living with Sherlock?"

Crap. John was really hoping he would quit asking about Sherlock. It was only a matter of time before John accidentally let Sebastian know something he didn't mean to let slip.

"W-Well, I… I like the danger… I know that sounds bad… But it's fun in a way that most people never get to experience…"

"Trust me. I understand, kid." Sebastian nodded. Not with sympathy, but like he felt the same way. "But there's more, isn't there?"

"Uh… um. I really like Sherlock." John blushed, but tried to play it off as a friendship type of liking. "He's great. I know he pisses people off and a lot of people are out to get him… but he really does try to fight for good… he's just a bit not good about it…"

Sebastian nodded. John knew the next question…

"M-my turn… Um, how long are you going to use the school for cover?"

"I'm not sure. Until I get another assignment."

"How-"

"Ah, ah. My turn. I think you know what I'm going to ask."

"Uh, n-no?" John did.

Just then, the oven went off, saving John for another few seconds. Sebastian took both pizzas out… they looked nearly inedible.

"…Maybe they taste better than they look?" John was trying to be optimistic, but the results looked grim.

John's pizza had cheese all over. It was melting off the sides, over the crust of the pizza, making it impossible to eat without a fork.

"Well, if worse comes to worse we can order something from somewhere."

"I-um. I'd say I won." John said, looking at Sebastian's pizza, on looks alone, John would win, no doubt. Though… They still looked really bad.

"I think you're biased."

"That doesn't make me any less right."

"You wouldn't win if we had a formal judge." Sebastian's pizza had burnt pineapples on the top and the crust was soggy, making _it_ hard eat without a fork.

"I guess we'll just have to try each other's." John said.

"You don't like pineapple."

"No, but then I can talk about how my pizza tastes better."

Sebastian sighed, cutting even slices from both pizzas, putting one of each on a plate for the two of them.

"We'll have to have a rematch in the future."

"Already admitting defeat?" John smiled, taking his plate.

"You _wish_." Sebastian scoffed, taking a bite of John's.

John laughed, trying to take a bite of Sebastian's, but it was so wet and soggy, he needed a plastic fork.

When John had finally taken a bite, he scrunched up his face.

"Yep. This is just as bad as I thought it would be."

John then took a bite of his. It wasn't _as_ bad, but it was by no means _good_.

" … I think yours wins by half a point. At least it's somewhat edible." Sebastian put the plate down, not wanting to put anymore of the garbage they had made into his body.

"I win?"

Sebastian sighed. "I guess."

"Yes!" John jumped up in the air.

"But this is still not a decent dinner. Maybe we could stop somewhere on the way to or from your flat."

"I know a few places… just let me know what you have in mind and I can tell you the nearest one."

"Isn't there a sandwich shop near where your flat is?"

"Yes, it's right next to it, actually."

"Any good?"

" … It depends, but don't worry, I won't lead you astray."

Sebastian went to grab his coat and a spare one for John.

"Here, it's much too cold out to not wear a coat."

"O-oh, thank you very much…" John would have politely refused if he thought he could get away with it.

The borrowed coat nearly swallowed John. It was so big on him it could have been a weird dress.

"I'm sorry we wasted so much food…" John was concerned Sebastian would be mad at him.

"Don't be sorry. Despite my living arrangement, I get paid quite well. Also, I planned to take it to the park. I know you aren't really _supposed_ to feed the ducks, but, hey, they need to eat… right?"

John smiled and followed Sebastian outside. It had gotten a lot darker and John wondered how long it had been since he was in the flat. It seemed like so long ago that he had left.

As they walked, Sebastian kept a watchful eye on everything. John noticed… he figured the man might be paranoid, but he didn't look _scared_ , per say… he just looked aware.

After a while of walking, Sebastian looked down at John, smiling his shark smile John had become so familiar with.

"Want to continue our game?"

John considered a moment. He could quite while he was ahead, but that wouldn't be fair… on the other hand, he knew what Sebastian's next question would likely be… but he still had some questions for the older man… John still had two skips anyway…

"Sure. It was your turn, I think." John kew it was his turn, but he wouldn't let the man know how much he was dreading the probable impending question.

"You know my next question."

John took a breath. "I have a guess… but I guess I won't know until you ask…"

"Who do you have a crush on?" It was blunt and to the point, but that made John blush all the more. He felt like some middle school girl gossiping about the cutest boy.

"U-um, w-well. I- … it's complicated…" John was so red he would blend in with a crate of tomatoes right about now.

"That's hardly an answer!" Sebastian laughed, but it wasn't directed at John.

"W-well, I… Uh, I think you already know… I may or may not have a small tiny crush on Sherlock…?" John felt like he might die.

Sebastian laughed so hard they almost had to stop walking. "On the machine? Oh, John, you poor, poor boy!"

"W-well, like I said… it's complicated!" John tried to defend himself, but Sebastian couldn't stop laughing.

"I-it's not that funny…" John wished he would suddenly melt into a puddle on the floor.

"O-Oh, Kid. This is rich. Okay. I'm ready to listen. Why's it complicated?"

John didn't even care that Sebastian had asked two questions in a row. He wanted to defend himself a little.

"W-well, first, I'm nearly ten years younger than him… That's a big one. Second, he's rather oblivious when it comes to feelings… Which is good for me because the _last_ thing I need is him constantly trying to run tests on what love can do to someone… Then he says he's 'married to his work' … but he gets upset when I talk about how cute a girl is… he'll never admit it, but I'm good at reading emotions…

"He's built like a greek god, he's brilliant, even sweet sometimes… but all he sees me as is a sidekick… maybe even a pet to obey orders… I don't even know if it's a crush or strong admiration…" John realized he was rambling. He looked up to see Sebastian looking ahead, not at him.

John was grateful, he felt like he might cry and he didn't want Sebastian to see that.

"Well, not that it's my business, but I think you have a crush on him. It's fine, by the way. As long as there's nothing going on between you until you're old enough." Sebastian gave a hard look.

John blushed harder.

"I also think he's just being dense. If you really think this isn't a fleeting crush, maybe talk to him about it. I think he'll at least hear you out."

John couldn't reply, so they walked in silence.

They walked into the sandwich shop, ordering their food and paying before sitting down to eat it, John huffing because Sebastian refused to let John pay for their food.

"My turn. What's your job?" John knew he said he'd skip this one, but maybe he'd changed his mind…

"Skip. Sorry, kid. There are things you probably shouldn't know." Sebastian was very dismissive, trying to change the subject quickly.

"Why won't you tell me about your parents?" John's eyebrows shot up. He couldn't answer that. No way. He found himself trying to say 'skip' but couldn't even force the word out.

Sebastian could see his mistake. "Skip?"

John nodded. He couldn't tell Sebastian. It was supposed to stay a secret. John had already said more than he probably should have. And it was still painful.

John found it unfair that Sebastian was asking such personal things, but he wasn't allowed. John realized they were both on their last 'skip'. He should have waited until they were both out of skips before he asked that.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. John was upset with himself for making things awkward.

"Hey, kid, it's okay. I understand some things are hard to talk about. You can't dwell on every little thing, though. I you want to quit playing we can. We can think of another game to play that maybe isn't so invasive."

"Y-yes please." John said into his sandwich.

Sebastian thought for a moment, taking a napkin, writing something on it then sticking it to John's forehead, miraculously, it stayed.

Sebastian then handed John a clean napkin and the pen. "Here, write a person on this. We have to try to guess who we are asking yes or no questions."

John didn't know many people.

"They can be famous?"

"Sure."

John wrote 'Queen Elizabeth II' because that was who popped into mind. He tried to stick it to Sebastian, but it didn't stay. John gave up and just handed it to him folded up.

"Okay. I'll ask first. Am I male?"

"Nope. Am I?"

"Yes. Am I famous?"

"Yes. Am I?"

Sebastian paused. "To those who know you." John was confused, to those who know? Did that mean, like, a show character? Sebastian continued asking his question. "Am I from Europe?"

"Yes. Am I real?"

"Arguable, but unfortunately, yes. Am I royalty?"

"Yes. Do I know this person personally?"

"I would be shocked if you didn't. Am I still living?"

"Yes… Am I, uh…" John tried to think of what to ask. He didn't want to lose, but it seemed that Sebastian had his figured out… John should have picked a harder one.

So John's person was male, can be considered famous, arguably real… he knew them personally… it was one of two people. He knew the next question would get a laugh if Sherlock were here. "Is my person fat?"

Sebastian's eyes lit up. "Yes! Well, not really… But yes. Am I Queen Elizabeth the second?"

"Yes. Am I Mycroft Holmes?"

"Wow, I'm really surprised you got that."

John grinned. Then he thought about how Sebastian knew who Mycroft is.

"Wait… how do you know about him?" John was skeptical.

In hindsight, Sebastian probably suggested this game to coax John back into paying their previous game, but in the moment it was very concerning.

Sebastian paused. "Well, he and I go way back." That made sense…

"Are you on good terms or bad terms?"

Sebastian countered with a question of his own. "Are we back to the question game?"

John had to admit, he was feeling a lot more competitive and he really wanted to know how they knew each other.

"Yes. Whose turn was it?"

"Yours."

John would have cheered if they weren't sitting near other people. "Okay! Are you on good terms with Mycroft?"

"No, but who is?"

John wasn't pleased by that answer, but he knew his next one.

"Since we're on the topic of Mycroft," Sebastian's eyes flicked up for less than a second before they were back on John. John went to look, but Sebastian stopped him by continuing his question.

"Well," He had a wicked glint in his eye. "Does _he_ know about your infatuation with your flatmate?"

"Shh!" John shushed him, waving his arms as if to erase the words from the air. John took a breath.

"Not that I know of… But I'd rather he didn't find out about it… Mycroft can be… abrasive. And rude… I think he may try to skin me or arrange the marriage."

"I'd hardly do either." A voice from behind made John's heart freeze and his face go instantly red with shame.

"O-oh, h-hullo, My-Mycroft." John slowly turned around to the man standing right behind him. Mycroft gave his customary smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Hello, John."

* * *

 **Bum bum baaa! Sorry... I'm addicted to cliffhangers...**

 **Have a nice day!**

 **(Ch5 will be up soon, I promise...)**

 **xoxo**

 **~Miss Taken**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, this took longer to post, mostly because I forgot... Sorry.**

 **Anyway, no other things to say, besides 'Enjoy!'**

* * *

"Hello, John." Mycroft sat down in the chair next to John.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" John was a lovely shade of red.

"I could ask you the very same thing." John was confused, but when he looked at Sebastian grinning, he could at least venture a guess that it had something to do with the fake teacher.

"Mycroft, pleasure to see you again." Sebastian held out his hand. Mycroft looked at it, not moving to take it.

"I wish I could say the same. John, you really do attract the _worst_ kinds of people."

"I-I think he's v-very nice." John tried to defend Sebastian, but neither of the men seemed to remember John was there. It was as if Mycroft was using John to passive aggressively intimidate Sebastian. They were caught in a glaring match with each other.

"I rather hoped you lot would be gone for longer." Mycroft said.

"Hate to disappoint. Wait, no I don't." Sebastian was calm and tense all at the same time. John was confused. His embarrassment forgotten.

The last time he'd seen Sherlock's older sibling was on a case nearly three months ago. It had ultimately resulted in a dead end, something Sherlock had simply missed the first time around… not that John believed that.

John was never allowed to be in on the really cool cases. He wasn't even allowed to know about some of them… He got to help on the ones that were a five or lower… A six was the only reason Sherlock left the house. It frustrated John to no end. He tried to be understanding, sure, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

Three months and now John was sitting at a table in a sandwich shop with a fake teacher and his flatmate's older brother. It sounded like the set up to a bad pun.

"Staying out of trouble?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Who, me? Of course not. I have to keep make sure no one can replace me." Sebastian grinned. His comment confused John even more. It seemed like Sebastian was a very, very, arrogant man. John knew he hadn't had this level of snide prior to Mycroft appearing… So either he was being uncharacteristically nice to John and he was an arrogant ass all the time… or the arrogance wasn't sincere. At this point, John didn't know which he believed more.

"Does he have any plans?" Mycroft leaned in slightly.

"I wouldn't tell you if he did."

"So, that's a yes… Interesting." Mycroft leaned back.

"S-so, um, what's going on?" This seemed to shock Sebastian out of it, resulting in Mycroft looking down at John.

"Nothing you need to worry about, kid." Sebastian answered before Mycroft could.

Mycroft snapped his head up to look at the man across the table, glaring before turning back to John.

"You are in with the wrong people. I suggest you stop lurking around with this scum." Mycroft got up to leave. "Also, do not concern yourself. I will not tell my brother of your… feelings." He spat the last word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Not a moment later, Mycroft Holmes was gone with no trace he had ever been. John watched the car until it turned and John could see it no more.

"U-Um, what just happened?"

"The British government has its eye on you. It saw a suspicious character walking next to you and sprung into action. Really, you should feel honored. He _hates_ leg work. Ready to go?"

John nodded. He was so confused about the exchanged that just occurred, but he knew no one would tell him. Nothing new there…

They got up, walking the very short distance to the flat. John walked up the stairs, telling Sebastian to wait in the living room.

"I'll only be a second or two. Feel free to sit down. I'd offer tea… but the kitchen is a bit hazardous."

Sebastian nodded and in seconds John was up the stairs in his room.

He wanted to pack light, but he didn't want to forget anything. He changed into night clothes. It made what he had to bring less… and Sebastian's home was near enough that he'd only be judged by a few people. His pajamas looked like a little kids… Mrs. Hudson had bought them for him, they had dinosaurs all over them and were an ugly shade of brown, but they were the most comfortable pajamas in the world.

He packed the basic toiletries into his book bag, as well as a pair of clothes for school. He packed two more things into his bag before looking around his room once more to double check that he hadn't forgotten anything.

Sebastian was right where John had left him, standing in the living room near the door. When he saw what John was wearing, he smiled, trying not to laugh.

"They're comfortable." John grumbled.

"I'm sure they are. " He let one of his laughs slip, but quickly composed himself. "I was expecting you to be longer. I'm impressed."

"It's not really something to be impressed by…" John had learned to be as quick and efficient as possible. If he was even a second late Sherlock would leave him. Not that he'd been late ever in his whole time living with Sherlock. Or before… but John didn't like to think about that. For all he cared, his life started the day he met Sherlock.

"Ready to go?"

John nodded, doing one more quick check to make sure he had everything. He grabbed his key and phone charger from they table by the door. He paused to throw on his coat, hoping it covered most of the pajama shirt. He couldn't really do anything about the bottoms, though… much to his embarrassment.

That walk back was quiet, filled with small talk about assignments and gossip about students.

John wished he didn't have so many binders in his backpack, along with more things than he'd usually have. Sebastian had offered to carry it early on, but, John being John, refused. He was starting to regret it, though. His shoulder was screaming for relief.

John heard Sebastian sigh and stop. John stopped too, confused.

"Give me your bag."

"I-I can carry it." John turned around to keep walking, but Sebastian stopped him.

"No, you've whimpered twice in the last minute alone. Give it here." John couldn't argue. His shoulder hurt so bad, he would have abandoned the bag entirely if Sebastian weren't with him.

When they got back to Sebastian's flat around fifteen minutes later, John was ecstatic about being given his bag back. He had some embarrassing things in there. Namely, two stuffed bears. John could never sleep without them, no matter how hard he tried.

He knew it was unheard of, a high-school boy sleeping with stuffed animals, but they were very special. One was beat up, nearly falling apart. He'd gotten it long before he moved in with Sherlock… Before everything had happened. The broken bear reminded John of himself, shredded, but still fighting. The other was a much newer bear. Sherlock had gotten it for his birthday the year after John moved in. John had blushed so much, he tried to keep the bear hidden… he should have known Sherlock would know, but the biggest reason he blushed was because Sherlock had gotten him a present… and a _sentimental_ present, nonetheless.

John didn't want Sebastian to see them, mostly because he knew he'd be ridiculed by one of his only friends. Sherlock and Mycroft were the only ones who knew. Not even Harry… John almost laughed. His sister knew him less than two brothers he'd known all of two years.

"You can sleep in my bed, I'll kip on the couch."

"O-oh, no! I couldn't do that!"

"Kid, you need to lighten up. You aren't nearly as much trouble as you seem to think."

"B-but, I-I, um…" John really didn't want to sleep in someone's bed… especially knowing they were sleeping on the couch.

"Do you really want to sleep on the couch?" Sebastian looked him in the eye.

"Y-yes, sir."

"Call me 'sir' again, and I'll baby you like you're my spoiled grandchild." Sebastian leaned down, arms crossed.

"Th-that's a weird threat." John looked down, fearing Sebastian might _actually_ do that.

"Well, I have a feeling you wouldn't respond well to crueler threats." Sebastian stood back up.

"Wh-what's that supposed to mean…?" John knew the fake teacher couldn't _possibly_ know… Right?

"Do you want to tell me?" Sebastian gave him a pointed look.

"N-no…" John looked at the floor again. Sebastian nodded and the subject was dropped.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Sebastian asked, walking over to a very tall shelf that reached the ceiling with about ten centimeters in between the ceiling and the shelf. It had some movies on half of the top shelf. The rest of the shelfs were filled with books. Sebastian looked, John realized he was making sure there weren't any movies that John couldn't watch. He picked one off the shelf, and put it on the top.

"Um, sure." John didn't know. He felt awkward again.

"Well, you look through them, I'll go find you a pillow and blanket." John nodded. He cursed himself for not grabbing a pillow and blanket from the flat.

He walked over to the bookshelf, realizing just how much shorter than Sebastian he really was. He couldn't reach the top, so he panicked slightly. He looked around the small living space, seeing nothing he could use to increase his height.

He suddenly remembered that there were two chairs in the kitchen. He got one, picking it up with his good arm and brought it over. It was a shorter chair, but John would make it work.

John clambered onto the chair gracelessly. He still wasn't tall enough to fully see the movies… "Oh, come on… this is ridiculous."

John looked for something to stack onto the chair. He thought it would be rude to move the low coffee table, let alone put a chair on top… John thought about trying to climb the shelves like the rungs of a ladder… that seemed dangerous.

John sighed, he didn't want to bother Sebastian, so it looked like the coffee table was the best option.

He pulled it over, it was scuffed and looked old, but it was solid wood and looked sturdy. John pulled it as far as he had too, then stacked the chair on top.

John had to tiptoe to comfortably see the movies since he hadn't moved the table closer. He leaned his weight on the shelf, tipping the chair slightly. He scanned the titles, looking for a movie he recognised.

He saw 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' and went to grab that. It was one of his favorites. He used to read the books, when he heard it was going to be a movie, he was ecstatic. The movie was different, but John could still enjoy it. He picked it out, then continued to scan, in case there was something else that caught his eye.

"So long, so long, so long…" John started humming, not realizing when Sebastian walked back in.

"What are you doing?" Sebastian's voice was raised, not in anger, but in concern. John realized this, but it startled him nonetheless.

John squealed and pushed back, tipping the chair over completely. The chair fell backwards off the table, taking John with it.

John braced himself for the impact with the floor, hoping his shoulder didn't get hurt anymore… But he never hit.

John looked up, Sebastian had materialized next to him and had prevented him from falling any farther. John was shaking a bit. Sebastian plopped John on the couch, draped a blanket over him, then kicked the table farther back. John was confused. Sebastian went to the kitchen, grabbing the other chair.

When Sebastian walked back in, he looked concerned. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah… sorry."John looked in his lap.

"Well, you're not hurt, there's no reason to be sorry…" Sebastian grinned. "It's not your fault you're so short."

"Hey!" John pouted, looking up at Seb.

"Did you get a movie picked?"

John nodded. Then he realized it was still on the top shelf. "I- uh, left it up there…" John pointed.

Sebastian walked over, picked up the only one not put away and examined it. While he did so, John was silently cursing his small stature. There was no _way_ he'd ever be a tall as Sebastian… or Sherlock, or even Lestrade. Sebastian had reached up as if it were nothing. It wasn't even kind of fair.

"This is a good one." Sebastian popped the disc in.

John snuggled into the blanket, putting the pillow behind him. He didn't know if Sebastian would watch with him, he didn't want to ask… John was afraid of sounding clingy. John made sure there was enough room on the couch for the other man, should he decide to watch.

The movie started up, John was almost upset when Sebastian walked away. Only for him to walk back out with pillows and blankets galore.

"Why do you need all of those?" John asked.

'We," Seb pointed between the two of them. "Are going to make the _best_ pillow fort of all time." Seb paused the movie.

"I- uh, I've never made a fort… pillow or otherwise… I don't think I'll be much good at it…" John fidgeted with the edge of the blanket.

"Nonsense. Everyone is good at making forts!" Sebastian looked offended.

"I-I'll try to help." John got up.

"Good. First, let's get a blanket or two down to put the couch cushions on." John nodded. He grabbed a thicker blanket, throwing it across their space. Seb grabbed the other side and they made it perfect.

"Nice. Now, cushions." John threw them down.

"Perfect. Chairs." They set up the chairs equidistant from the cushions and each other. Seb grabbed a sheet and threw it over the chairs, stacking some folded blankets on the chair's seet to keep it there.

John mimicked.

"Congrats. You've made your first fort."

"I'm not going to lie… this isn't that bad…" John admired the fort.

"Here, get in. I'll make popcorn or something." Seb walked away and John got into the fort. It was even cooler on the inside. He flipped the front up so they could see the movie.

Seb was back in record time, bearing popcorn and a soda for each of them.

"Thank you." John started to tear up.

"It's just soda, kid."

"It's not that."

"I know." Sebastian looked at John a moment longer and, when he realized John wasn't going to respond, he picked the remote up. He pushed play and they were thrust into the movie. John nearly fell asleep a few times, but tried to force himself to see the end of the movie.

Half way through, Sebastian saw him doze off slightly. "Want me to stop the movie?"

"No." John muttered sleepily. John was out less than a second later.

* * *

"Okay." Sebastian chuckled warmly. He got up, stopped the movie, tucked John in, made sure to get the bears out of the bag. Sebastian knew it was kind of wrong to do that, but John wouldn't have brought them if he didn't need them.

He took the top of the fort off, so as not to scare the kid when he woke up. Sebastian moved silently, cleaning up the remains of their snacks and put the chairs back.

When that was done, he checked on the kid once more. Deciding it was okay to leave him, Sebastian went to his room.

He sighed and picked up his phone. He needed to fill the Boss in.

He walked into his room, shutting the door. He picked up his phone.

The line was picked up. " _Seb! It's so nice of you to call! I was actually just about to ring you."_

Sebastian paced the room slightly. "This kid is a handful. Just a few minutes ago, he almost broke his neck trying to reach the top shelf of my bookcase." He was exasperated. His new role as 'Guardian Angel' was already a hassle. And it was his first day.

" _He's at your house?"_ The Boss sounded amused. " _When I said to watch out for him, I didn't really see you kidnapping him."_

Sebastian chuckled. "He's just staying the night."

" _Scandalous."_

"It's not like that and you know it." Sebastian would never do that to a kid. Especially John. He was much too sweet and naive for that.

" _Bummer. Well, what else did you find out. You wouldn't call otherwise."_

"This kid… He's sweet. Like, tooth-rotting sweet. He's awkward. He, Boss, the kid's messed up. He wouldn't tell me, but there's something. He also likes cheese pizza." Sebastian smiled at their failed pizzas.

" _You sound like you're attached already."_ The Boss's voice was singsongy.

Sebastian was shocked that he agreed. "I… Yes, I suppose I am."

" _What I found out wasn't nearly as much as I wanted. I found that he has a sister. Older, boring, alcoholic. Parents are dead. He's been living with Sherlock for near two years."_

Sebastian was shocked that that was all his Boss could find. His Boss was the best in the world. There was no one better. If there his Boss couldn't find it, there wasn't a record of it. And no one alive to recount it.

"You going to find the sister?"

" _No point. She left years before the parents died. Seems like they were the homophobic type. That's why she left. When John was about two. Visited once or twice, but nothing beyond that."_

Sebastian thought back to what the kid had said. He knew they weren't close… had she really left him all alone? His parents obviously weren't winning any the good parent award…

"Well, I also found out the kid has a crush."

" _You know I don't gossip-"_

"On our dear Sherlock." Sebastian smirked. He still couldn't get over it, he knew his Boss would like this tidbit, too.

" _The poor thing."_ The Boss laughed.

"That's what I said."

" _You must_ really _like this kid. I've_ never _, in all the years you've worked for me, heard you laugh this much. I'm sorry to break it to you, pet… but Dear Johnny boy is_ mine _."_

Sebastian shuttered. He didn't want his Boss anywhere _near_ the kid. John got in too much trouble by himself, with the Boss? They'd bring the world to its knees by drinking afternoon tea!

"You… aren't going to hurt him, are you?" He had to ask. He didn't know if he could take it if the answer was yes.

" _I haven't decided."_ The Boss snapped. " _You better not be getting soft. I don't want to have to find a new pet. You won't make me do that, will you?"_ The threat was dripping from his words.

Sebastian sighed. "No, sir. I'm not going soft. This kid though. Boss, he attracts the worst people. He doesn't even realize how dangerous his life is."

" _I'll see that for myself soon enough."_ The line went dead.

Sebastian sighed again. His life was about to become interesting.

"This is why I never had kids." He muttered to himself.

Just then, he heard screaming from the other room. He ripped his door open, sprinting to where John was screaming.

"Kid!" Sebastian looked, panicked, around for why the kid was crying and wailing. It became clear that the kid was just having a night terror.

Sebastian tried to wake him up twice more. It didn't work. John laid on the floor, curling into himself while trying to fight some unknown attacker.

Sebastian sat with his back against the couch, scooping the kid up and rocked him. He knew that's what people did to little kids… John was little, and a kid.

"Shh, shh." Sebastian was uncomfortable, but the kid started to calm down, though he whimpered and cried. Sebastian rocked him in a soothing motion for a few more minutes. Humming softly. He thinks, maybe, he _would_ have been a good parent… in another life.

"It's okay… I'm right here." John was breathing normally again.

"Sh-Sh'rlck?" John had opened his eyes slightly, not looking up at Sebastian.

"Yes, go back to sleep." John buried his face into Sebastian's chest, falling asleep again. Sebastian put him back on the makeshift bed and stood up.

Sebastian added this to the short mental list of things he knew about the kid.

 _Night terrors_

 _Has estranged sister_

 _Too trusting_

 _Sweet_

 _Lives at 221B Baker Street_

 _Goes to the public school down the street_

 _Lives with Sherlock_

 _Has a crush on Sherlock_

 _Constantly in danger_

He put another thing on the things he knew about Sherlock on a list too.

 _Helps John through night terrors._

Sebastian walked into his room, grabbing a pillow and blanket. He walked back into the living room, throwing a blanket over the floor a few feet away from the kid. He didn't feel right leaving John alone.

"Maybe I _am_ going soft…" He looked at the kid sleeping softly next to him. Suddenly, Sebastian didn't care. He could live with going soft… Well, not for long, but he would be okay with going out that way. He pulled the blanket up on John a little, making sure he wouldn't get cold during the night.

"Night, kid." Sebastian said, though he knew the kid was sleeping deeply. Sebastian fell into a light sleep, listening for any noise the kid might make.

* * *

 **How was it? I'm quite proud of this story so far.**

 **Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to post. I have to write it up, but that's nearly done.**

 **Then I have to edit and proof it... so maybe a week, tops?**

 **I know better than to promise tho...**

 **~xoxo,**

 **Miss Taken**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, sorry this took forever! The next one _should_ be up much sooner! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

John woke up to Sebastian was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. John threw the covers off, sending his bears flying, panicking a little. "Wh-what's wrong?"

Sebastian stopped his dashing about. "We are going to be late for school, get ready as fast as you can. Change in my room, the bathroom, I don't care!" He continued shoving papers into a bag.

John grabbed at his bag, sprinting to the bathroom, spilling a few items on the ground. Including his phone which skittered under the couch.

John threw on his clothes, brushing his teeth rapidly. He runs out with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

"Here. Eat." Sebastian ran into the bathroom, as he passed, he throws a slice of toast at John. John catches it and goes to take a bite… realizing at the last second why that was a bad idea.

"Oh, bad idea." He rinsed his mouth in the kitchen sink, then took another bite of toast. Sebastian ripped open the door, putting on his shoes as he walked.

"Okay, let's go."

They left. John unknowingly leaving his clothes, bears, and, most frighteningly, his phone behind.

* * *

School was as it always was. Boring. John didn't see Sebastian all day. He had realized in his fourth class he had left things at Sebastian's house. He kind of needed them. If Sherlock sent a text, he expected John to drop what he was doing and reply. If he didn't, Sherlock assumed John was in trouble. John was panicking slightly the rest of the day.

When the final bell rang, he raced to Sebastian's classroom. He ran into the teacher, quite literally, in the hall on his way there, nearly toppling them both. Only John fell.

"In a hurry?"

"I was looking for you…" John rubbed the back of his neck, taking the hand Sebastian offered.

* * *

Little did either know, they had an audience. A teacher, Mr. Conan, was watching the scene play out in front of him, his horror growing as the out of context conversation went on.

"Any particular reason?" Moran smirked, putting the hidden teacher on edge. He had never liked Moran. He was a horrible person and an even worse teacher.

"I left some stuff at your house from our… uh, 'sleep-over'… it's really important." Mr. Conan's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Moran had a student stay over? That was illegal.

"Ah, and here I thought you just missed me." Moran pouted.

"I-I mean, th-that too! B-but I left my phone there… Sherlock will not hesitate to turn the tracker on… then he'll know where you live… and where I was last night." Illegal and absolutely disgusting, Mr. Conan added.

"Eh, let him know. I'm sure he'll know sooner or later anyway. That guy knows everything."

"Well… almost everything." John blushed.

"Yeah. He probably doesn't know you crush on older guys."

"Sebastian!" John was as bright as a tomato. So John was on a first name basis? Not helping Sebastian's case. "That was a low blow!"

"I know, I know. Okay, want to head to my place now?"

"I-if you don't have any other plans…?"

"Ah, I just remembered. I have all the plans. Super important meeting or something. Can't avoid it."

John just laughed. "I'll help you clean up a little too… We made a mess last night in the living room…"

Moran pretended to think. "Compelling. Okay, you got yourself a date."

Mr. Conan had had enough. He needed to tell Sherlock.

It was common knowledge that he was the legal guardian of John Watson. He was furious at Moran. To even look at a student that way, it was a downright disgrace to teachers everywhere.

Mr. Conan walked away, pulling out his phone and looked up the number to reach Sherlock. He sighed. He hated being the bearer of bad news. He'd call the police if he thought they could do better than Sherlock. But, the teacher had seen his work. And, just maybe he could admit he wanted to impress Sherlock just a bit. But, mostly help John. Yeah. Help the kid.

* * *

On the walk over there, John was nearly bursting with anxiety. He didn't want Sherlock to worry about him. Even more, he didn't want Sherlock to call Greg and tell him he was missing… that always ended badly.

"Kid, worrying isn't going to get us there faster. Relax a little. I'm sure it's fine."

"You haven't seen him when he gets worked up…" John walked faster. Sebastian kept pace. When they finally got there, John darted around, looking desperately for his phone. When he found it sticking out from under the couch, he almost cried with relief.

Then it turned to dread. It was completely dead.

"The universe hates me!" He plugged it in, sitting down next to it, pulling his knees to his face.

"Oh, you're being dramatic. The universe hates everyone." Sebastian was unnerved to see the kid so distraught, but he couldn't help but find it a little amusing. He walked over to his laptop, checking to see if the boss had sent anymore instructions or information. He rubbed his hand over his face to see that he was in charge of taking care some people. The list was attached.

When John's phone powered back on, he saw there was no texts from Sherlock. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, the universe is back in my good book."

Sebastian chuckled, powering down the laptop. If the hits were that important the Boss would have sent a text instead.

John shook his head, setting the phone down to let it continue to charge. He walked to the mass of blankets and pillows and set to work, Sebastian by his side. They worked in silence. The mess took more than thirty minutes, many of which were because John, though by accident, started an intense pillow fight.

When they were finally done, Sebastian checked his phone. It was nearly half past four.

"Okay. I have to get back. Sherlock is expecting me, I think. When he doesn't text, that usually means he has some experiment he's really invested in… he likes me to be a subject in them if they aren't too terribly life threatening…"

"...I- that sounds unsanitary." Sebastian couldn't imagine the Boss running his experiments on John… though, ultimately, that was what Sebastian was afraid would become of John. He'd try to prevent that, though. The Boss ran different types of experiments… crueler, more dangerous… John was too sweet for that to become his fate.

"It is." John shuddered. Remembering the toes. Sherlock had stocked the fridge with them just to see how John reacted. Needless to say, John's reaction had been anticipated, however, in Sherlock's words, 'was amplified to an extent that was crucial for science.' Sherlock had taken a video for 'data' but John knew he was proud that he had caused John to pass out from yelling. John had been so mad, he hadn't talked to Sherlock three days after that.

"Well, I don't want to keep you from certain doom." Sebastian said chipperly.

"Gee, thanks…" John rolled his eyes.

They walked out, polite conversation as they walked.

* * *

Sherlock got a call. He usually didn't answer, but he recognised the number as one of John's teachers. He hadn't heard from John all day, so the call was kind of concerning.

He pressed the answer button. "Holmes." He set the phone down, putting it on speaker and turning back to his petri dish.

"Mr. Holmes… I have some, rather upsetting news about John. Earlier today, in the school halls I heard-"

"I don't partake in gossip. Good day." Sherlock had heard these calls before. They never ended well. He was one incident away from pulling John out of school and home schooling him. John wouldn't be happy, but people would quit bothering the boy all the time. And stop interrupting Sherlock when he was working.

"No! Wait, hear me out."

"Be quick. I've business to attend to." He set the phone back down and went to the stove, turning it on low.

"Do you know where John was last night?"

"Yes. He was at a friend's house. I do not care for you leading me on pointless beatings around the bush. Get to the point."

"Did he tell you his 'friend' was an adult? A teacher? His lover?"

Sherlock had heard accusations before. This teacher sounded like he fully believed what he was saying. Sherlock sighed. This was the last straw. John was being home schooled as soon as possible. Although… Sherlock had to admit, this time John didn't have a solid alibi, but he refused to believe John was capable of such a thing.

"You have proof, I assume."

"I heard them talking in the hall. They're going to his place right now."

Sherlock hung up. He couldn't hear anymore of this talk against John.

He was worried now that John wasn't home. It was nearly four. He was always home by this time. Even if he stopped to chat with people.

He walked from the stove, not bothering to turn it off, to the living room and turned on the tracker he had out on John's phone. Not John's phone… that created to many variables. If the phone was dead, it wouldn't work. No, he had one in the case of John's phone. As well as one in his phone, but that was beside the point. He pulled it up on his- John's- laptop.

Sherlock saw the dot, sitting in one spot, not moving in the direction of Baker Street. Sherlock thought, maybe he stopped to talk to someone. John was a friendly person, it would make sense… but the blip was in an area that was all housing, and in a rough neighborhood at that, so, John had to be at someone's house… Taking in to account that the teacher had called him, Sherlock would give the dot ten minutes to start moving. He trusted John. Sherlock sat back. Thinking a moment.

…He didn't trust this teacher, though.

Not a minute later, Sherlock had his coat and was out the door.

* * *

Sebastian and John had been leisurely walking, talking about upcoming assignments and gossiping about teachers and students alike.

Sebastian checked his watch. "What time is he expecting you back?"

"I'm usually home before this… but I don't think he'll notice. I went on a weekend field trip once, mind you, I was gone for nearly three full days, and when I got back he looked shocked. The bastard didn't even realize I'd left."

Sebastian laughed. "No. Way."

"Way. Then he goes 'well, it's not my fault you don't listen.' and was actually upset that he had to catch me up to speed!" John groaned. He was glad he had Sebastian. John didn't know why… but it seemed like Sebastian knew exactly where he was coming from. He didn't talk about his work, but what little he did say lead John to believe his Boss had some of the same mannerisms as Sherlock… in a different way. John made a face… not even in his mind did that make sense. He felt comfortable around Sebastian. Like he didn't have to be afraid or worry is he sounded annoying. He still did, but it was easier to ignore.

"Alright. I've heard rumors."

"Oh, here we go."

"I've heard a lot… the most, let's say… interesting one is that your flatmate keeps dismembered bodies. Any truth?"

"He usually doesn't keep the whole body… just parts. He gets them from Mrs. Hooper. She's really nice… and she has the biggest crush on him."

"You jealous?"

"Not really… I almost pity her… He doesn't even acknowledge her half the time… She does anything and everything for him… it sounds familiar, I'll say that much…" John said miserably.

"I hear that." Sebastian muttered. "But I know he appreciates you, even if it doesn't seem like it. He's always there to protect you, right?"

"I… I don't think that's the same thing… But yeah, he does. Most of the time…" John shuttered. One of the times he had been kidnapped and had to bust himself out. Sherlock 'knew where he was' and was 'ready to move in if John couldn't handle it' but John had a sneaking suspicion Sherlock was just stumped. Sherlock hadn't let John leave his sight for a week after that, only cementing his thoughts.

"If he doesn't know what he's got… maybe show him? Sounds terrible, a teacher suggesting to stage a kidnapping or runaway… but I'm not actually a teacher, so, I have no reservations on planning a kidnapping."

Though it sounded almost like a threat, John couldn't help but laugh. He couldn't see Sebastian hurting a fly, and yet, at the same time, he could see him torturing because he wanted to. Such an odd contradiction.

"I think he'd actually kill me if I even thought about it. Though, he has his reasons."

"I'm just saying, if you ever want to really know, I know a guy. He'll help you out and he's very fair about what he wants in return. I could even cash in a favor he owes me, if you want."

"I-I… um, I think that would not end well… it would either confirm my fears or make him hate me…"

"Well, you obviously wouldn't know about it. All you have to say is a verbal yes or no… I can make it happen."

"I'll… I'll keep it in mind." John was uncomfortable. He didn't want Sherlock to ever worry about him… At the same time, he didn't want to know that Sherlock didn't really care about him… John knew his heart couldn't take it. But, he had to, right? Why would he keep John around if he didn't care?

"You seem uneasy, did I upset you?"

"N-no! Nothing like that… my thoughts are just mutinous sometimes…"

"I understand. Wanna get coffee?"

"O-oh, no, that's alright, b-but thank you."

"How about some tea? I know how you adore it."

John thought, he did adore it… but he didn't want to burden Sebastian any more than he had. And Sherlock may be worrying about him by now.

"Oh, come now, John. I saw that hesitation. You want to say yes and you know it. Come on. I know a place. Think of it as a way of thanking you for your company last night and today."

"Thanking me? No way! I should be thanking you! I haven't had that much attention in… since…" John thought hard. Had it really been so long ago? "W-well, I can't remember… can I buy you coffee instead…?"

"We'll see." Meaning 'no' John guessed.

And Sebastian walked on, making sure John was following him and that he didn't get lost. It got increasingly difficult as the crowd thickened, so Sebastian grabbed John's hand, half guiding half dragging him along.

John thought nothing of it, grateful for the assistance. He was a small kid, Sebastian was big and imposing… while using him as a shield, John laughed when the phrase 'Guardian Angel' popped into his head to describe Sebastian.

Sebastian looked behind and down at John while still walking. "What's so funny?"

"N-nothing. Just thinking."

"Sure you are. I'm privy to your tricks. I bet you've fallen madly in love with me after just one day." Sebastian sighed dramatically.

"It's been a bit longer than one day, Sir." Though John said it mockingly, he panicked as he remembered Sebastian's earlier threat, hoping the older man didn't remember.

To John's horror, he'd remembered. "Well. That's it. Now I have to spoil you. You brought this on yourself, kid."

"Wait, no! I-I didn't mean it! I meant to call you a bastard! Or something similar! Please don't, Sebby!" Sebastian laughed so loud people started to look.

"I have only ever known one person to call me that and it's only when he orders me around. You can't get out of this one, John. Sorry. Now you know next time to take my threats more seriously."

"B-but, Sebastian-" John whined, getting cut off.

"I made it clear yesterday if you said that to me again, I would have to. I'm a man of my word. Sorry, kid."

"That's not fair!"

"Sure it is. Even if it wasn't, that's life. I'm buying you tea. You don't get a say."

"But-"

Suddenly, John and Sebastian were separated. Sherlock, seething in anger, standing between them, John behind him.

"Let's go, John."

"...Sherlock? Wh-what's going on…?" Sherlock had grabbed John's arm and was now pulling him in the direction of Baker Street, his grip unrelenting, even as John tried to pull away.

"Home. You and I are going to have a nice chat about your recent whereabouts."

John knew this was coming, but that didn't make it any less nerve wracking. Sherlock's grip on his arm was painful, but even still, he didn't loosen it.

"Sh-Sherlock, you're hurting me-" John tried to pull away again, but Sherlock pulled back, making John stumble forward.

Suddenly John wasn't in Sherlock's grasp. He was behind Sebastian, who was in Sherlock's personal space, aiming to intimidate. Sherlock was shorter by about an inch… but Sebastian used the small height difference like feet.

"Excuse you." Sherlock growled, leaning around him to get to John.

"No, excuse you. What are you doing? The boy said you were hurting him."

"I'm just trying to get him away from a creep he seems to have befriended." Sherlock had successfully gotten himself between John and Sebastian and was now shielding John.

"U-um, Sherl-" John peeked around Sebastian.

"Be quiet, John." Sherlock barked, not looking at John.

"Creep? I think you're mistaken."

"I heard your conversation. You were holding hands. John's hair is messed up and you both have the faint smell of sweat on you. He also looks like he's recently been beat up. His nose has been recently broken and he's holding his shoulder awkwardly. I am not mistaken." Sherlock snarled.

"O-oh, I, we- it's not-"

"Not another word from you."

"I know you're supposed to be a genius, but you really aren't very smart."

"I know what I see."

"Sh-Sherl-" John tried to speak to help Sebastian, but Sherlock turned slightly, fixing a glare on him, shutting John up instantly.

"You clearly don't. Our conversation was out of context. You don't know what we were saying before. I was 'holding' his hand to make sure he didn't get lost. I assume we smell like sweat because John and I tried to beat the crap out of each other with pillows, also giving a reason as to why his hair is a mess. As to his injuries, maybe you should ask him yourself." Sebastian was calm, but there was an edge to his voice, betraying the anger he felt.

Sherlock didn't know what to say, but he didn't want to be wrong, at the same time he hoped that he was, so he turned to John. "Where did you get those injuries? And why didn't you tell me where you actually were last night?"

"I-I d-" John couldn't explain himself without stuttering, he turned to Sebastian for help.

"He did. I'm a friend. From school. I happen to teach English and helped him on an assignment. He was completely truthful."

Sherlock glared. "Telling a lie and not telling the full truth are essentially the same thing. You know that, John."

"I-I'm s-s-sorry, Sh-Sherlock. I-"

"Enough. You can make excuses later. We're going home." He stepped closer to John again. It was scary how mad Sherlock was. John cowered away from him, tearing up a small bit. He knew Sherlock wouldn't hurt him… but in the moment, he wasn't so sure… Sherlock kept getting closer, when he raised his hand, John flinched, covering his face with his arms.

"If you don't stop right there, I will kill you." Sebastian grabbed Sherlock's collar, stopping him from advancing.

John had made himself as small as possible. He was crying now. John remembered what crying did, though, he tried to stop, but he couldn't. He couldn't believe Sherlock would be just like his dad… he promised he wouldn't… he promised. Why was he-

"John…" Sherlock's voice was soft. He hadn't realized he was scaring John. "It's okay, John. I'm sorry I frightened you. I just worry about you." John nodded.

Sebastian was livid. He couldn't believe Sherlock. He just expected John to forgive him? How selfish. He was making excuses to get to John's empathy.

"John. Are you okay?" John just nodded again. Sebastian gently pushed. "Answer me please." John looked scared and quickly answered.

"Y-yes, s-sir."

Sebastian looked at Sherlock. "I think you should leave."

Sherlock straightened looking affronted. "You'd be better off leaving."

John had stopped crying and was only shaking a little. John spoke in a small voice. "I-I think we sh-should g-go somewhere else. People are staring…"

Sure enough, people were watching two grown men make a small child cry on the side of the road.

"Out of context…" Sebastian couldn't help but think of it as his phrase of the day.

As Sherlock turned and started walking, Sebastian looked down at John, who still looked incredibly small. "Hey, we could just go back to my house until he maybe cools down a little, if you'd like."

"N-no… he'll just get m-more upset…" John shuttered, trying to keep the tears from falling down his pink cheeks.

"Okay. I'll go with you. I'll keep things under control." John nodded sadly. Sebastian was calm, and John appreciate it immensely.

They walked side by side, keeping up with Sherlock, who had turned to make sure the other two were following.

* * *

When they arrived at Baker Street, they swiftly moved to the living area. John excused himself to the kitchen to make tea. One, to get away from the tension, and, two, to calm himself down.

In the living room, Sherlock sat in his chair, Sebastian stood. They glared at each other, saying nothing.

When John walked back in, he put a cup in front of both of them, then sat in his chair, refusing to look up from the ground. It looked as if he were willing the pillows to swallow him up.

Sherlock decided he couldn't stay quiet anymore. He got up, pacing, not realizing it was putting John on edge. Sebastian didn't know what to do. It was odd, really. He was the cool, aloof badass who killed people left and right without a second thought… but in this moment, he could do nothing to calm John, a thirteen year old, down. Sebastian sighed. What was his life coming to? Sherlock paused at the window, looking out.

Sherlock spoke. "I want the full story." When John still didn't look up, Sherlock turned. "Now, if you please." John squeezed his eyes tight, holding back a whimper.

"W-well, after I saw you yesterday I- well I d-didn't think the park sounded fun anymore… N-not after I knew y-you w-were doing something fun… s-so I- well we were out of stuff so I thought I'd pop into the store." John took a steadying breath, trying to make his voice stop trembling.

"Well, I after I ch-checked out, I was walking back… I had g-gotten too much and I wanted to get home fast… then I was p-pulled into an alleyway a-and I g-got beat up. The g-guy said to tell you to watch out…" John looked at Sebastian to help.

"At this point I stepped in and knocked the guy out. I took John to my house because he was unconscious. I popped his shoulder back into place as well as his nose. He had some blood in his hair as well. That guy almost killed him. If I'd been there any later, I hate to think what would have happened." Sebastian shook his head, clearing his gruesome thoughts. "When he said you wouldn't be here and neither would Mrs. Hudson, I insisted he stay. I didn't feel right leaving him by himself. So, he stayed, we made pizza, it failed, we went to the sandwich shop next door, then we came here so John could grab his school things, we made a pillow fort we watched a movie and we slept. Nothing more, nothing less. The most disturbing thing to happen was watching John put almost three full cups of cheese on a pizza." Sebastian left out their game and the run in with Mycroft because it would have sounded suspicious.

Sherlock turned to John.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd been attacked?"

"W-well, I-I knew you were on a case… I know y-you hate being distracted from them… I-I didn't was you to b-be mad at me… I think I messed that up, though…"

"I'm would not have been mad. I would be worried. I'm mad because you didn't say anything and trusted a practical stranger more than me. If you would have said something, I would have finished the case earlier." Sherlock had actually not finished the case. This was a very odd one. Serial killings. He stopped that door from opening, he would be lost for hours if he opened it again. He needed to focus on John right now.

"I-I didn't- I-"

"He was in no state. He couldn't be moved too much and I knew you would stress him out." Sebastian accused.

"You and I have never met before today." Sherlock growled. "You couldn't know I'd 'stress' him out."

"Yet look where we are. I listen to my gut."

"My eyes are telling me you're ex-military, going on your short hair and posture. Dishonorable discharge. Sniper, steady hands. You continued to kill after you got out. Now you do it for a living. Tell me again how I am a stresser and you're not."

Sebastian didn't look shocked like John expected. In fact, he smirked. "I may be a killer, but at least I'm willing to admit I enjoy it."

John got up. He couldn't listen anymore. He knew it was a bad idea to leave them alone, but he couldn't be there anymore.

"I-I'll b-be in my r-room." He left without a word. His door was shut quietly, but even so, it echoed through the silent flat.

* * *

"You upset him."

"I upset him? It wasn't me who upset him." Sherlock scowled as Sebastian.

"You are a prat. I don't know how he stands you."

"Is there a reason you're still plaguing our flat with your presents?"

"Actually," Sebastian lowered his voice. "I want to talk you you about John. I'm concerned about his well being."

Sherlock looked offended, but before he could say anything, Sebastian raised a hand. "No. Not because of you. I was a witness to one of his nightmares. I am genuinely worried about him. I worry that him living with you isn't safe. Not because of you, but because of the people you attract. The guy in the alley yesterday is a perfect example. The kid was doing nothing, yet he's still targeted because of his association to you."

"I am perfectly capable of keeping him safe."

"How many times has he been kidnapped."

" … I don't see how that has anything to do with-"

"How many times has he had an injury from a stakeout or citywide chase through alleyways?"

"Other people-"

"This isn't about other people. This is about John."

"I hate repeating myself. As I told you before, I am adequate in keeping my John out of harm's way."

"He's not yours."

Sherlock gaped at the fake teacher. "I'm quite sure he very much is."

"He's his own person." Sebastian's blood was boiling. "I'm going to be honest here, I don't think John should continue to live with you."

They heard a loud gasp. Sherlock looked to John standing on the stairs. Leave it to John to figure out which stairs were silent.

Both men were shocked it took them this long to realize John hadn't even gone to his room. They both silently berated themselves. Sebastian recovered first.

"Well, I suppose you know how I think now too, John. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to keep living here." He looked right at John, he knew the kid could see reason, even if Sherlock refused to.

"Well I think-"

"Frankly, I don't care what you think. If John says he doesn't want to live here anymore, you can bet your ass he won't."

"You can't do that." Sherlock put his hands on his hips. "I'll tell Lestrade you kidnapped him."

"Easy enough to believe that, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"Enough! I-I'm still here…" John took the last few steps to the ground, walking into the living room once more. "I…" John didn't know what he even wanted to say.

Sebastian looked him right in the eye. "Yes or no, John. Do you want to be here? Do you feel safe here?"

"W-well…" John tried to think of words to string together, but it was getting harder the longer he had to look Sebastian in the eye.

"Well? Go on, tell him you want to leave, tell him it's not safe, see if I care." Sherlock walked to his room and slammed the door.

"I…I'm sorry… It's m-my fault he's being like that…" John put his head down, shrinking back again.

"No it's not. Listen, now he's gone. You don't have to let him force you to say something you don't mean."

"N-no! It's not like that… I was… I was trying to say that there's nowhere I'd rather live than with him… I wouldn't last a day anywhere else… I- that is to say… it's not that it's particularly safe… but at the same time, it is… I know that doesn't make a whole lot of sense… But that kind of sums up my whole life." John chuckled a little.

"I understand. If that changes ever, let me know. My offer will stand."

"Thank you…"

"And, so you know," Sebastian walked over to John, leaning down and whispering. "He would care very much. He would be upset to know he drove you away. Don't let him think he can get away with everything."

John smiled. "I won't."

"Okay, upstairs with you. I'm going to talk with Sherlock a moment more, then I'm leaving. I'll see you tomorrow."

John started for the stairs. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Moran."

Sebastian flashed a grin, then turned to Sherlock's closed door. He didn't bother knocking.

"I'm leaving."

"I know."

"Take care of him."

"I do."

"Listen. I've see the nightmares that kid has."

"That's the second time you mentioned it. However you didn't mention other night time activities… did he sleep through the night?"

"What does that have to do with anything at all?" Sebastian's head hurt.

"If he did, this will mark the first full week."

Sebastian sighed. "I'll bite. Full week of what?"

"Him sleeping without incident. Before, he would walk around. Nearly broke his neck on the stairs. Multiple times. Almost jumped out the window… He's improving." Sherlock seemed pleased.

"Are you kidding me? He's a mess! The poor kid can't decide what he wants for dinner, stutters when he feels threatened, which is quite often, and has the worst nightmares! And you seem happy."

"He can't decide what he wants to eat, but he eats now. He stutters, but he talks to other people, besides me, now, and he doesn't even stutter that much. He has nightmares, but he sleeps. Yes. He has problems. You should have seen him when he first came here. Yes, I'm very happy. Ecstatic. My John is getting better."

Sebastian was stunned. It was as if he could see how much John really meant to Sherlock… He knew the detective at least liked the boy… but Sebastian could see pride and respect in Sherlock's eyes. "What happened to him?" He knew it wasn't his place to ask, but he couldn't stop himself from uttering the question.

"That's none of your business." Sherlock waved him away.

"You don't know." Sebastian could see right through him. He could see that Sherlock didn't know because John wasn't ready to talk.

"I know enough."

"That's good enough for me."

"Noted." Delete.

"Keep him safe."

Sherlock scoffed. "As if I planned otherwise."

"I'm not joking."

"Nor am I."

"I'll be keeping my eyes on him too."

"I'll allow it."

"As if you could stop me." Sebastian smirked, then turned to walked a few steps before stopping. He didn't turn around, but he spoke. "You need to keep a close eye on him… things you don't understand are happening. I can't protect him from them. You have to."

"Ominous." Sherlock wasn't listening and there was no point in Sebastian staying any longer.

"I'm sure that went in one ear and out the other. Don't say I didn't warn you." Sebastian sighed sadly. He couldn't say anymore… he shouldn't have said as much as he had, but it was too late now.

Sebastian left.

* * *

When John heard the front door close, he cautiously made his way down the stairs again.

He saw Sherlock standing in the living room, violin in hand. He wasn't playing yet, but it was clear he intended to. John wanted to say something before he lost the nerve.

"I chose you…"

"I know."

John opened his mouth to say more… but no more followed. He sat on the couch as Sherlock started to play.

Around half an hour after John had fallen asleep, he started to thrash and whimper. Sherlock was shaken out of his thoughts, crashing to the present.

"John." John didn't hear him. Sherlock put the violin away and grabbed a blanket for John. John still whimpered and rolled around. Sherlock looked around, as if being watched, given who his brother was, he wouldn't be shocked, then picked John's head up. Sherlock sat down, laying John's head on his lap. Sherlock stroked John's hair until the boy calmed, his mantra of 'Shhh. I'm here, Sherlock is here. I'll protect you.' repeated over and over. Finally, John fell into a deep restful sleep, curling his arms around Sherlock and burying his face into the detective's stomach.

Sherlock pulled the file of the case he'd been working on from the side table.

He flipped through, looking at the four victims. All different ages, weights, occupations, looks, hell, there was nothing to connect them. Except the way they all had words on carved over their chests. One a week. They all died differently, but over their hearts there were words. Words that his brain read and reread… but he couldn't make anything of them. Not a single thing.

The first victim had been a known abuser. Horrible person. He was a reason John didn't need to know about this case. Victim number one was stabbed to death. The knife wasn't found and there was no signs of a man had the word 'Don't'

The second had brown hair and was a student in pre-med. She was young. She was the main reason Sherlock hadn't told John about this one. John got so sad when he saw them. The young girl was in a car crash… but in a car that was not her own. She didn't own a car and had no previous charges of theft. She was in the back seat, and there was no DNA anywhere on the car.

She had 'Trust' carved into her.

The third, a man, blonde, middle aged, frankly boring. He had supposedly jumped from a bridge. Sherlock tried not to let chills run down his spine. He looked down at John to reassure himself the boy was still there. He was.

. This boring mad had a boring word. 'The' carved into his waterlogged flesh.

The fourth was the one that puzzled him, and all of the Yard, really. A teenager. Nothing really defining about him, but his word was 'Ducks'. Sherlock didn't know why. The message had been clear… four words. What was special about the number four? So specific.

"Don't trust the ducks." Sherlock, though he wouldn't admit it, was at a loss. All he could be certain of was that there were more on the way. He wasn't sure if he was excited or not. With the victims seeming random, John was in more danger than normal. Maybe Sherlock should tell John, if only to keep him safe. Sherlock had a sinking feeling this was one Moriarty's work… John didn't need to be around that deranged maniac. Sherlock had found his web. To say it was gruesome was an understatement.

Sherlock looked down at John. He looked peaceful. Sherlock filed the picture of John looking so small and sweet into his mind palace. The wing christened 'John Watson'.

Sherlock shifted to a more comfortable position. John stirred, not opening his eyes, he whispered "Don't leave me." before falling asleep, albeit, more restless.

Sherlock smiled warmly, even though John couldn't see it. "Never." He had no intention of getting up. He hummed the melody of one of John's favorite songs. Music always seemed to help him, at least a little. John's unconscious form calmed, soothed by Sherlock.

Sherlock hugged John close, knowing no one could see, besides maybe his brother, and took a moment to document this moment as well. He was starting to drift off. His last thought of John.

"My John." He didn't know or care if he said it out loud. No one could hear him. No one but John… and he's the only one who matters.

* * *

 **Um, yeah, feels are coming up in the next on. So is John's backstory...**  
 **I'm apologizing now because I know everyone loves the lil' cinnamon roll...**  
 **Anyway, that's all.**  
 **Have a nice day!**  
 **xoxo**

 **~Miss Taken**


	7. Chapter 7

**Longer chapter, format might be a little confusing... sorry.**

 **Some touchy subjects in this one... Abuse, suicide, drugs... just be warned going into this.**

 **All mistakes are my own!**

 **Please don't hate me too much for what I put John through...**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Tuesday went by in a flash. He gave Sebastian his letter for James without a second thought on Wednesday. He was surprised to find he eagerly awaited a response. He needed friends. In prison or not.

Really, the rest of the week went quickly. John was keeping up with homework while trying to help Sherlock on the most recent case. Not that Sherlock would let him be a part of it, but John liked to think he was helping anyway. John would make him take a break and have a small nap when he knew there was a lull. No new evidence or victims as far as John knew… that's what was driving Sherlock so crazy.

He wouldn't speak to John, only at him. No conversations or interactions, John felt like he was being ignored… He berated himself for thinking that way, there were people dying and he was sitting around feeling like some depressed teenager. But even still, John was lonely.

When Sherlock left on Friday night, John snuck into Sherlock's room and looked at the pictures hung up. He knew why Sherlock hadn't told him about this one. The bodies were horrid. John felt his eyes linger over the teenager… he looked familiar. John wondered if he'd known him.

He looked at the others. They all looked vaguely familiar, now that he was looking. John walked around a fair amount, saw quite a number of people… but for someone to stick out in his mind, he'd have to see them pretty frequently.

John looked away, going to sit in his chair. He didn't know these people. He was just trying to make himself feel better.

What could connect them? Was it random? There had to be a connection. John stopped midway across the room, and thought for a moment. It was conceded… but all of these people hit home with John… what if… what if _he_ was the connection. No. That wouldn't make sense. Sherlock was the target… but Sherlock had John… maybe? But if John had thought about it, Sherlock had definitely thought about it, documented it, and followed it.

It must be wrong because Sherlock still didn't tell John and John was still left alone. Even so, John couldn't shake the feeling. Now he'd scared himself into seeking company. Mrs. Hudson was with her sister until further notice (Sherlock had estimated a week and a half… which was a bummer. John really missed her.) Sherlock would likely be gone until at least midnight, and he didn't know how to contact Sebastian… Well, John could email him… but that really was going a bit far.

John didn't want to be alone though… the flat seamed ominous with the victims and details hanging on the wall. He had Lestrade's number… and he was off duty today… _and_ his wife was out of town… He was John's best option. Lestrade was nice, funny, and an all around great guy. John would call him. He would talk to Lestrade over the phone until he didn't feel scared. Then Lestrade could stay cozy at home while still keeping John company.

"And he says I'm not smart…"

He dialed the number and curled in on himself on the couch. It rang four times.

" _Lestrade."_ It sounded like he'd been sleeping. Great… now John felt horrible about this. He looked at the clock. It was seven.

"O-Oh, hello, Mr. Greg. It's, uh, it's John. I-I'm sorry, did I wake you…?"

" _Yeah, but it's okay, John. I accidentally fell asleep. I'm actually glad you woke me. Anyway, what's up? Are you okay?"_

"Y-yeah… I just scared myself."

Lestrade paused. " _Where's Sherlock?"_

"He went out… he was muttering about ducks or something."

" _I'll be there in a minute. Stay on the line?"_

"O-oh, y-you don't have to come over… I was just kinda scared. I have an overactive imagination."

" _John, has Sherlock told you about the current case?"_

"W-well, no… But the victims pictures are hanging up… I… I kinda drew my own conclusions…"

Lestrade sighed. " _I guess he couldn't take you with him, but he really shouldn't leave you alone. Mrs. Hudson is still at her sister's, isn't she?"_

"Yes."

" _Okay. I'll be over in a few. Did you eat?"_

John thought. No, he hadn't, but he wasn't hungry. "Yes."

" _Okay. I'll be there in a few. I'll text you when I'm there, don't open the door for anyone else."_

"O-okay?"

Lestrade hung up. John felt bad. He shouldn't have called. Now he'd worried Lestrade on his only day off.

Fifteen minutes later, John got a text. He didn't bother to check it, knowing it was Lestrade. He left his phone on the couch where it had been sitting.

He opened the door, walking down the stairs only to find the front door already open.

"This is the first five minutes of a horror movie if I've ever seen one…" But John couldn't just leave the door open… It was cold and drizzling.

"The wind…?"

He heard a creak on the floor below. Then a thud and a crash. John nearly jumped out of his skin. "Okay! _Not_ the wind. Listen… If you're down there, just come out. I have a weapon and I won't hesitate to use it." John wished it were true, but his gun was actually upstairs in his room.

All he wanted to do was run back upstairs and wait for Lestrade… but now he knew someone was inside… He couldn't just let them stay.

Suddenly John felt the calm wash over him. The calm that always came to make these things easier. John walked down the stairs, not slowing.

When he got down, he could see no one. Mrs. Hudson's vase was shattered. She would be so upset when she got back.

John looked all around. There was some blood on the floor and on the table… but not enough for someone big. In fact, it would have to be someone very small… or maybe it was an animal. But it would have to be bleeding a lot…

Then he heard a strangled "Meow" from under the table.

"Hello?"

Sure enough, there was a very small cat, huddled and meowing pathetically, holding its right shoulder and paw close to its body. Blood pooling under it.

"Oh, hey there… You poor thing… come here…" John held his hands out, knowing the cat wouldn't budge. He put his hand on the ground to lean under the table… leaning right on a sharp piece of glass. He stayed focused though, reaching for the cat with his better hand. The flesh on his hand was bleeding heavily, but the cat was what mattered.

However, he didn't want to force the cat for fear of getting the daylights clawed out of him.

To his utter shock, the cat hobbled out, right into John's arms. Much too frail to be healthy and bleeding profusely from its right side. John pulled the cat to his chest, cradling it while appraising it's injuries. It looked like it had been stabbed… which was ridiculous. Who walked around stabbing small cats? The good news was it was only skin and muscle, not organs. Whoever did this wanted to inflict pain, not death. It's right radius was broken. It was a clean break, which made things easier to fix.

John went into doctor mode.

"Don't worry. I'll help you. It's going to be okay." John took the stairs two at a time, getting to the living room as quick as possible. He grabbed two towels, warm water, a clean needle and thread, gloves, bandages, as well as medicine, it was probably -hopefully- be okay to give a cat, that would alleviate some of the pain.

He didn't think to check his phone to see who had actually sent him a text. His money was still on Lestrade, texting to say he'd be late. It didn't matter though. This little kitten was what mattered.

John put gloves on to keep his blood from dribbling onto the cat, then set to work, cleaning the wounds, suturing then bandaging, then splinted the arm.

Finally, there was no more John could do. He'd done everything. The cat looked to be asleep… it still had a pulse it was weak, but getting stronger, so that was a good sign… and it _had_ lost quite a large amount of blood. John reassure himself that it was a good thing the kitten was sleeping. It must have been in a lot of pain.

He looked at his hand, the glove had pooled with blood and was a mess to take off. He couldn't tell his blood from the kitten's.

John sighed. Looking up to see Lestrade leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. John hadn't even heard him come up.

"Oh… H-hello, Mr. Greg…"

"John. I've been standing here for nearly fifteen minutes. What I just witnessed was nothing short of astounding."

"Th-thank you?"

"That being said, you nearly gave me a heart attack. When I got here the front door was open, there was blood all over the floor and the vase was broken. Then I heard your voice up here. Jesus, John. I thought someone got stabbed."

"The poor kitty _did_ get stabbed…" John looked at the kitten's prone form lying on the ground. He wondered if this was how Sebastian felt when he saw John in the alley.

"Are you sure?" Lestrade came over, looking down at the kitten.

"I know a stab wound when I see one." John snapped. Then he winced, hand drifting to his side. He stopped it before Lestrade could see it, though. "S-sorry… th-that was rude…"

Lestrade looked surprised, but nodded. "It's alright. I know living with Sherlock you've seen your fair share of… unpleasantness… I sometimes forget."

John was glad to let it drop.

"So, what will you name it?"

"Sherlock won't let me keep it…"

"Do you want to?"

"More than anything. I don't think it's chance the poor baby walked right to where I was. It even let me pick it up… I've never understood how people could be so connected to an animal. Now I do. But… it doesn't matter, Sherlock will say no."

"He'll have to let you. You saved the poor thing. You should get to keep it."

"B-but-"

"Nope. I'll insist."

"He doesn't like cats… I'm not even sure if this little guy is going to make it."

"I meant to ask you… That was an awful lot of blood downstairs. It can't all be that wee cat's, now, could it?"

"No…" John struggled, trying to word it in a way that wouldn't be confusing for Lestrade. "I think it tried to fight back and got whoever hurt it really good. There was blood under its claws and around its mouth… I'm shocked it even made it here." John held up his hand. "Also, I got a deep cut on my hand from a piece of glass. So I'm sure a bit of it is mine." John had only just remembered that his hand needed care too. He went and got another needle. He thought about it and when he came back, he spoke again. "I-I don't want to get my hopes up… The poor thing lost a _lot_ of blood for its small size. The most we can hope for is it dies as painlessly as possible… we can't even move him. It's too dangerous." John sniffled a little, sewing his hand with precision.

He wasn't crying from pain, he was crying about the cat. He didn't know why. The death of a cat was _nothing_ compared to what he normally saw. It was just a dumb cat.

Lestrade didn't mention the suturing. He looked like he wanted to help, but knew John could handle it better. "Hey, John, it's okay. You did everything you could. And it's not dead yet. There's still hope."

"B-but, he's so _small_ and he's so hurt! He shouldn't have come here. He won't get better! He might just be a little more comfortable while he _wastes away!_ " John suddenly realized why this cat had hurt his heart so much. John could relate to this little kitten. He didn't mean to, but the little cat was in almost the exact same place John had been only a few years prior. John felt warm tears flow down his cheeks. He brushed them away furiously, but Lestrade had already seen them.

Lestrade looked sad, but didn't say anything to acknowledge it. "I'm going to call Sherlock."

"... why?"

"You're upset and I'm making things worse."

"N-no you're not! I-I'm just overreacting… it's just a dumb cat. D-don't bother him… he's working so hard…"

"John. Listen. That is _not_ just a dumb cat. And Sherlock isn't getting anywhere. He just didn't want to upset you while he paced around and yelled at things."

"R-really?" John sniffled again.

Lestrade nodded, pulling out his phone.

It rang only once. Lestrade put it on speaker for John's benefit.

" _Tell me you have something."_ Sherlock sounded like he was half a second from exploding.

"I guess it depends on what you want to call 'something'. I'm sitting here with John, I think you should come back, Sherlock."

" _John. Is he okay? Lestrade, talk to me."_

"He's shaken up and his hand had a nasty cut but he's taken care of it. Nothing has happened, but I'm not as much of a comforter as I seem. I'll stay with him until you get back. Make it soon."

" _I'll be there in five."_ he hung up.

John had gone back to the kitten's side. "If… if he pulls through… I'm going to name him Leo." John said quietly, stroking the cat so soft, Lestrade would be surprised if John was actually disturbing a single hair at all.

"A fine name. He'll live up to it. He already has." Lestrade felt awkward. He didn't know what to do. John was crying still, petting the small, unmoving, cat, and he couldn't do anything to make it better.

Sherlock was home in no time. He walked in, looking panicked, when he saw John and the cat, he moved over to them. He looked at Lestrade briefly.

"Thank you. You can leave now."

Lestrade got up. "Call me if you need me."

"Thank you Mr. Greg." John didn't look up.

Lestrade nodded, walking out.

"John. Are you alright?"

John nodded, still laying next to the kitten.

"Do you want to explain now, or later?"

"Later…" John moved to lay down on the floor next to the cat, still soothing its fur.

"I already know, I suppose." Sherlock sat on the couch, mindful not to bump John.

"I-I'm sorry Lestrade called you a-and you had t-to come back."

"It's alright. It was cold and dreary out there. I was planning to come back anyway."

John knew he wasn't, but he appreciated him saying so. It made him feel less guilty about it.

"So. This kitten."

"C-can… can I keep him…?"

"If he survives, yes."

John turned onto his back and just looked up at Sherlock through tears. "R-really?"

"John… I'm not very good with words. But just because I'm legally your guardian doesn't mean you're my adoptive son or anything of the sort. You live here and you are my flatmate. You and I are equals in that. You have just as much of a say as I do." Sherlock would never say it, but he also couldn't bring himself to tell the kid no.

John closed his eyes, a few more tears escaping. He just nodded. "I-I'm sorry. I'm trying to stop, I promise."

"It doesn't matter, John. You've done very well tonight. You've prolonged another life. I'm very proud of you and so is Lestrade."

John just looked at the ceiling. After a moment, he spoke. He didn't know if it was to or _at_ Sherlock… but he said it anyway. "I didn't mean to start crying. Leo, that's his name, …he just reminds me of when I first came here. After I-" A sob. John focused and kept his words from breaking. "After you saved me. But… Sherlock, this is different… he's so small…"

"You were too. It's hard to believe, but you _were_ smaller two years ago."

"Very funny." John grinned weakly. "I wasn't bleeding out when you found me…"

"No. But you could have been."

"Yeah… Yeah I could've." John tried to remember back to that night all those years ago. "I can't even remember how I got there."

"If it eases your mind any, I was very high at the time. I can't remember it either."

John chuckled weakly. "No, that doesn't make it better… I'm glad you stopped that."

"I'm glad you didn't proceed either."

"Sometimes I wonder." John shook his head.

"Don't. You'll hurt that small brain of yours." Sherlock said softly. John knew he was trying to get John to think of _anything_ else… but John's brain wouldn't have it.

"If Leo wakes up before me, wake me up… and if I, uh, you know… start tossing and turning… can you wake me up? I don't want to hurt him anymore than he already is."

"I will."

John smiled a little, then drifted off to an unsatisfying sleep.

* * *

When John's mother was pregnant with him, John's dad was in the military. When John was born, his dad came back to visit once before going back. John admired how strong and brave his dad was. He would listen intently to his mother's stories about him. Harry seemed like she remembered too. She was nine years old when John was born.

"This one time, he came home and he said to me, 'Harry, you and I are going to get your mother a present.' I was confused, of course. There was no reason for one… but when I asked him why, he said 'I want to show her how much I love her. I don't need a reason.' and then we went and got her the biggest box of chocolate ever and flowers and I got her a candy necklace. She was so happy she cried. Johnny, it was amazing."

John couldn't wait until his dad came back. He sounded like a great person. His mum and big sister always spoke about him with such admiration.

When John and his mother and his sister were on their own, waiting for John's dad, they had little money. John didn't know and he would have told you his mother was rich if you asked because he was happy. His mum made the most out of everything. She would tell him all the time, "It's not where you live, it's how you live." John didn't understand, but his mother just laughed and pinched his cheek. "You will, Johnny. You will. Think about it like this. You'll grow up and eventually move out. You'll find your own home. One that may not be nice… but you'll love it anyway. That's how you know you have a home, not a house."

"But, mummy, I don't ever want to leave you and Harry!" John cried. This was his home! With his mother and his sister.

"I know, sweetie. It always will be. But when you grow up and find a wife, she can't live here too. Because, before long, _you'll_ have kids. I just know they will be the prettiest babies ever. Where will their home be?"

"I… I guess that makes sense… I don't have to leave now, though, do I, mummy?"

"Heavens, no!" She laughed a warm laugh, blue eyes shimmering. "You'll find a home all your own when you're good and ready, Johnny. Now, would you like to help me make dinner?"

"Yes please!"

Harry would play with him and his mum would teach him how to make things. His mum worked every day, except Sunday when they'd go to church, and she was gone from seven in the evening until nine in the morning. Harry would get herself to school John would be alone for three hours. John didn't mind, he would make him mum breakfast, clean a little, then practice reading. He was teaching himself (with a little help from Harry) to surprise his mom. Maybe she would cry with joy again.

John was five when his father was dishonorably discharged from the military. He never told them why, but he heard his mother say something about assaulting some of the underlings… John didn't understand.

John's dad was angry with the world. Angry with himself until he realized he could be angry with his family instead.

John was five and a half when his dad first hit his mom.

He didn't know what had happened, only that his mum was crying and cradling her cheek.

His dad apologized and promised it would never happen again. A week later, John knew his father was not a man of his word.

John stepped in, but it only got his dad even angrier. His mother would beg John not to try to stop him… John didn't listen very well. His dad just hit him harder until he did. It only took three months for John to start backing down.

John's dad made his mum quit her job, refusing to get on himself. They slowly slipped lower and lower into poverty.

It didn't help that his dad drank away what little they had.

When John was five and three fourths, his mum got sick.

He tried to help. Read everything he could about what might be wrong… but he couldn't read as well as he needed to. He still wasn't in school yet. His dad refused to enroll him, saying John was a waste of education. John taught himself to read… but he didn't know the big words. The _important_ ones… But it didn't matter. John knew what was wrong with his mother.

John diagnosed his mother with a broken heart.

John tried to give her extra love… read her stories… when he ran out, he'd make them up. "Once upon a time, there was a scary dragon who guarded a princess. The dragon wasn't mean, he just loved the princess and didn't want her to be hurt. They became best friends.

"They played and sang together all the time. The princess would tell the dragon about when she lived in the kingdom, about her sisters and parents, about the food. She told the dragon her parents said she was going to be rescued when she was older.

"Time went on, the girl and the dragon grew up, and were even better friends. They forgot the princess was supposed to be rescued. When the knight came to rescue the princess, he was scared by the dragon. His sharp teeth and fire breath was nothing like the knight had seen before. They fought and the dragon thought the knight was trying to hurt the princess, so he wouldn't let the knight in.

"The princess saw and shouted for them to stop. The knight said he was there to rescue her. The princess was sad. She didn't want to leave her best friend. And the dragon didn't want his only friend to leave. The knight came up with a solution. The dragon could go with them! The dragon said he'd always wanted to see what the princess had talked about, so he agreed. And even though people were still scared of the dragon, he protected the kingdom and the princess. The dragon and the princess and the knight all lived happily ever after." John's mother would smile and clap a little. She seemed to like them but…

But she didn't get better.

On John's sixth birthday, his mum died. His dad was angry, not sad like he should have been. John yelled at him. His first mistake of many he would make over the next few agonising years. John wasn't allowed to go to his mom's funeral. He was grounded. His dad told everyone John had refused to go. With a huge bruise blossoming on his face, John cried. This wasn't who his mother had talked about. John started thinking maybe the wrong man came home. Maybe his real dad was out there. Harry told him he was stupid.

When John was six and a half, Harry came out. She told their dad she was running away with her girlfriend. John's dad didn't seem to care. Until she was gone. Harry hadn't said goodbye.

John was alone. Forced to learn military discipline. 'Yes, sir' 'no, sir' Stood straight. It, unfortunately, took more time to learn not to talk back. He had endured a lot. "You're the reason they're both gone!" _Smack_.

Glass bottles thrown at him. "I wish you would have died."

Plates. "I hope you die."

Fists. "You're just a drunk bastard."

Kicks. "If I had _anywhere_ else to be, I'd kill you." Broken rib, that comment got him. Or, John supposed it did. He had diagnosed himself, so it may have only been cracked.

"I'm going to the police." That one got him thrown down the basement stairs and the door locked behind him. He was only allowed up when his dad remembered if John died, he'd have to make his own dinner and get his own beer… It took two days to remember..

Hell, anything the older Watson could do to harm John, he did. John spent all his time in the library. He still couldn't go to school, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone called the police. He waited and waited for that day. No one ever did. John gave up.

When John was seven, his dad got ruthless. One toe out of line and John would get the shit beat out of him. John became better at following orders. He knew exactly how long he could take getting a beer for his father before there were consequences. Knew exactly what to make for dinner without being asked. John quit talking back. If he stayed quiet, his dad didn't hurt him as much. John was well aware.

John knew and he did everything to appease his father. Yet his dad still found things wrong. John stopped talking. There was no point. He didn't have anyone to talk to and everything he said was punishable anyway. His dad said such horrible things, throwing back everything John had said and more.

"You know, before you, your mother, Harry, and I were happy. You fucked all of that up."

"You're the reason your mother is dead. You killed my wife."

"Harry ran away. She couldn't stand what a disgusting urchin her brother was."

"I wish I would have died over there. Then I wouldn't have to be so _disappointed_ by you."

John tried to not let it bother him… but, then again, he couldn't ride a bike, he didn't go to school, he couldn't read… and he couldn't save his mother. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he was pathetic…

John believed him. His dad must be telling the truth… John hated him.

When John was eight, he tried to kill his dad. Nothing spectacular, just a passive aggressive thing. He had taken his medical knowledge and made sure to give his dad a beer right after his medication. Or, put a little rat poison in his dad's food. _Botulism_ , John remembered reading about it… but he didn't know how high of a chance he had of picking up the right can… He stuck to the other ways. To John's utter disappointment, it never worked.

When his dad found out, he took the sharpest kitchen knife and stabbed at the boy. "You ungrateful _shit_!" His words were slurred.

John knew he was smaller and faster than the drunk, he dogged left, but it still got him _good_ in the side. There was quite a bit of blood. It took nearly two months to heal because whenever he did something wrong, his dad would dig into John's wound and _rip_ out the stitches. John kept having to put them in, it was painful every time, but everytime, he got a little better.

He was fed up, John's dad. His son had tried to _kill_ him. The ungrateful little _shit._ John's dad got an idea. He wasn't very smart, but he'd heard of someone who could help. They assured him he wouldn't get caught by the police, and that was good enough for him.

He set everything up. It took about two months until everything was in place. But, finally, everything was in order. The next time John did something out of line, He would put it in motion.

He didn't have to wait. He had seen John with text books. John wasn't allowed to leave the house. That was rule number one.

He grounded John. Locked him in his room, and walked to the garage. He picked up a canister of gasoline and started dumping it all around the living room. He figured this way, he could not only be rid of his burden, but he could also have the insurance money on the house.

He smiled and lit a match, throwing it as he left the house. "Good fucking riddance." John's dad was gone. Off to hopefully find a good drink somewhere.

When John was eight and a half, his dad tried to burn him alive.

He was sick of his dad. He grabbed a bad he had packed so long ago. It didn't have much in it… One pair of clothes, some pictures and an old stuffed bear his mum and Harry had gotten him.

John picked the lock on the door and opened it, only to find a blazing fire just beyond. The smoke hadn't phased him, his dad smoked and burned things in the house all the time. John stared at the flames for a moment, wide eyed and scared. Then, he ran. If he didn't get out, he would die. The flames hurt so bad. The smoke burned his lungs. In all of ten seconds, John was out of the house.

He was on fire… but he was out. He watched his home burn to the ground. When John was eight and a half, he escaped. He was finally free! ...But what he found beyond the house was not what he expected… he escaped, only to find a cruel and unforgiving world.

Left and right he was kicked, shoved, bullied. He was hungry and sick. Cold. Hurt. But what hurt the most was that he was all alone. His mum was dead, his sister left him to rot and his dad tried to kill him.

John was alone.

He got a job, selling newspapers… it didn't last. He was 'too dirty'. He looked and looked. No one was willing to hire a worthless nine year old.

John still frequented the library. The librarians there took pity and let him stay as long as they could, but he always had to spend the long cold nights outside.

When John was ten, he tried to enroll himself in school, but they just laughed in his face and told him to go home and stop playing jokes. John was too scared to go to the police… he'd heard terrible stories about foster care… he didn't even know what it was, really, but it didn't sound good.

John went around to the other homeless people. He checked up on them, helping when he could… "You need to stop smoking. If you don't, I think you'll be dead within the next two years. Maybe less."

"Who asked you." The old lady coughed hard, waving John away. John saw her die only a week later. Not from cigarettes… but from suicide. John wished she would have kept smoking.

He tried to stop her. But she didn't even know John was there. He yelled for someone to help… but there was only so much you could do when you were a ten and a half year old kid. No one trusted you. That made sense, but it still hurt John.

When he was ten and a half, he knew his life was over.

When he was eleven, he found himself on the same bridge where the old woman had once stood. It was late. John couldn't see anyone, so it must have been at least two in the morning.

He stepped up onto the ledge, looking up at the stars. He breathed deeply. The cold air stung his lunds, but he was used to it. It didn't matter anyway. In just a moment, _nothing_ would matter. John looked down, expecting to chicken out, but found that even his body wanted to fall.

The water would be cold, no doubt. John only hoped it would be over quickly. He was tired of being cold.

He leaned forward.

Then, a hand was on his wrist, pulling him back.

"Your life is not your own. Keep your hands _off_ of it." A man had his hand curled around John's arm. John tried to yank it away, but the man didn't budge. He was tall, his dark curly hair was limp and his skin looked sick. John realized this man was on drugs.

John still rarely spoke, but he supposed these would be his last words, so it may as well be an argument.

"It _is_ mine and I don't want it anymore."

"Then give it to me."

John stared at this drugged out man. "That is one of the creepiest things anyone has ever said to me. And trust me, I've heard some creepy stuff."

To his confusion, the man smiled. "I get that a lot."

John huffed, trying to shake the man. "No one is going to care. Let go."

"I'll care."

John sighed, exasperated. "Listen. You don't even know me. You _can't_ care."

"You want to be a doctor. You care about all of those people you look at."

"Ah, now I know you've been following me. Let. Go." John just wanted to feel the wind whipping around his face for the few seconds before he hit.

"I have not. I deduced it."

"I don't care. Even if I _don't_ jump, I'll find a way. I have nothing. Nowhere to go."

"I am currently looking for a flatmate. If you're interested."

"Ah, yes. I want to abandon sweet nothingness for living with a drug addict. Go away. And, fair warning, you need to stop. The way you're heading, you're going to kill yourself in an even more painful way than I am." John tried to turn, to wrench his hand free.

"See, you care."

"Well. I'm also emotionally unstable."

"I'm a high-functioning sociopath."

"Lovely. I did have plans I'd like to get back to."

"I play the violin in the early hours of the morning. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

"Listen, I don't even have money. I couldn't pay my part even if I _wanted_ to. Which I don't."

"I'll hire you as my assistant."

That piqued John's interest. Not because the man would hire him, but that he'd honestly want an eleven year old as an assistant. "What do you do?"

"I solve murders. I need a good doctor to help analyze the bodies at crime scenes."

"So, you're a private detective?"

"Consulting Detective."

John thought. He hadn't heard of that one. He blamed it on his lack of schooling.

"I made it up. I'm the only one in the world."

"Oh. Yeah. _That's_ believable."

"So, what do you say?"

"You could be a serial killer for all I know."

"And you could be a suicidal eleven year old… Wait. Bad example."

John looked at this man. Really looked. He should be feeling a million things… He should hate that this man, who he'd never met, was joking about suicide… angry that the man wouldn't leave him alone… ashamed that he'd been caught in the act… but the only one he can act on is to laugh. That had been _funny_. Here he was, about to jump off a bridge and he was laughing.

"Well, I suppose I'm already dead to myself anyways. How much worse could it get?"

John hopped off the ledge, standing right in front of the man who had talked him down.

"John Watson." John stuck out his hand. The man took it.

"Sherlock Holmes."

And John smiled his first real smile in years.

"Let's go home, John."

"Lead the way." And right then, John knew that he would follow this man to hell and back without being asked.

The months after that had been hard. John ate even less than Sherlock did. When people would come by, John would hide. John didn't sleep. When he did, it was for less than an hour at a time.

He was very relaxed when Sherlock was around, but Sherlock knew the young kid freaked out when there was too much noise outside, or a knock on the door, or a poorly timed explosion… Sherlock had to resort to playing the violin when John got like that. Like a Pavlov sort of effect, John associated the violin with safety… with Sherlock. Sherlock had a playlist of all John's favorites on stand-by at all times.

Sherlock quit the drugs.

It was hard enough to take care of John sober. John stimulated his mind, gave him something to think about and solve when he didn't have a case. The kid was a walking contradiction.

He had no schooling, but he knew more than most kids his age. He constantly mother-henned Sherlock into eating, not taking more than a bite himself. John would start hyperventilating over dropping glass, but being held at gunpoint he was fine.

Sherlock marveled at the kid. He could be sweet, charming, shy and at the same time, if you caught him in the right mood, he'd shoot and kill a man to save a stranger's life.

Slowly, John got better…

Sherlock caught him up on all the things he missed in school. They had lessons everyday. John was an exceptional student. He learned fast and always asked the best questions.

"That doesn't make sense. If my equation is balanced, why did you mark it wrong?"

"You didn't mark the phases."

"I did too!"

"Not correctly."

"Well, how do I tell?"

"Listen when I talk, perhaps?"

"Ha. Ha. Seriously. Does liquid lithium nitrate react different than solid lithium nitrate?"

"It depends on what you mix with it. If you were to throw it into water, yes. It would."

"But _how_?"

"Oh, John. That's my favorite question." He started talking and John took extensive notes. Many days were spent on science, more were spent on logical reasoning and reading people. To Sherlock's joy, John was already exceptional at it. The people part, anyway… Situations were still hard at times.

"John. I think it's time you met our landlady. She is the best. I think you'll like her." it took two months for John to get used to the flat and call it home… it took another month before he met Mrs. Hudson

Sherlock escorted John down, staying close the whole time.

Sherlock knocked, John hid slightly behind him. The door opened, when the old lady realized it was one of her tennents, she opened it wider. "Sherlock! It feels like it's been ages! How've you been? Would you like to come in? Oh, I was starting to worry about you, dear. Oh, you've brought a friend!"

Sherlock moved to walk in, John grabbed his coat sleeve.

"H-hello… I-I'm- My name is John Watson. It- it's very lovely to meet you."

"Oh, enough formalities. Have a biscuit?" He immediately adored her.

John nodded. "Y-yes please."

Sherlock filled Mrs. Hudson in on what had happened. "John is my flatmate. I hope that won't be a problem? I do apologise about not telling you earlier, but I wanted him not to be rushed into meeting a lot of new-"

"Sherlock, shush. You're rambling. I don't care that this young man stays here, so long as you have seperate bedrooms, I have no problems." John didn't understand, but he could see Sherlock turn a little pink in the ears. He wondered if anyone else would ever have noticed.

The first time he met Lestrade was a bit more… eventful. It was six months into John's stay. Sherlock had just gone to take a shower. He heard the front door open and then someone on the steps. It was too heavy to be Mrs. Hudson though… John panicked a little and tried to find something. He settled on s heavy textbook he'd been reading from.

"Sherlock! There's been-"

John lobbed the book at the tall man. He was shorter than Sherlock, but not by much.

The water cut off from the shower as John was grabbing another book to throw.

"John."

John backed up, not taking his eyes off the man. When he felt Sherlock touch his shoulder, he sighed with relief. "John, this is D. I. Lestrade. He works for Scotland Yard." John's breathing picked up again. Sherlock squeezed the small shoulder. "No, he's not here to take you away."

"Sherlock. You have some explaining to do. But that can wait. There's been a murder. I've been texting you for hours."

"I was teaching John about quantum mechanics. He's very good."

"You haven't answered my texts with more than one or two words in ages! You refused to come to _any_ crime scenes. This was the last straw. Do you know how much was bet on you having finally ODed? It was a lot." The man, Lestrade, was angry. John was getting fidgety. He didn't like this man. He was scary. But he held his ground, protecting Sherlock as much as he was able.

"I've quit."

"Sure. Just like last time?"

"No. I haven't touched any of it in months."

"Like I'd believe that."

John wouldn't let this man talk to Sherlock like that! "H-he wouldn't _lie_!"

Lestrade looked shocked. "He speaks."

John didn't know what to say to that.

Lestrade sighed. "We can talk later. This murder is… well we don't know _what_ to make of it, really."

"Do you ever? Let me put on some clothes. Get ready John."

John nodded. It hadn't even crossed his mind he might not go.

"Sherlock, you can't bring a _child_ to a crime scene."

"John is a doctor. I need him to assist me."

"He's no more than, what, eleven?"

"Eleven and a _half_." Sherlock and John said in unison.

"Just what we needed. A carbon copy."

Sherlock ignored him. John was grateful Sherlock waited until John was in his room before leaving the living room. John would have been alone with Lestrade if not.

They got to the scene. Lestrade went to check on everything and told the two to stay put for a moment.

John took a deep breath and grabbed Sherlock's hand. He knew the detective would pull away, but, to John's shock, he held on just as tight.

The other officers saw Sherlock and John and everyone gawked. John assumed it was at Sherlock, who kept deducing for John, but then he heard people start to talk.

Whispers like 'He'll be dead in a week'

'I bet he kidnapped that kid.'

'Look , they're holding _hands_.'

'They probably do unspeakable things at night.'

John looked up at Sherlock. He could see the Consulting Detective's face was stoney… John could also see a bit of shame.

John and Sherlock had been learning morse code to use when John didn't want to talk. John appreciated it and Sherlock was glad to know John could always ask things. He tapped into the back of Sherlock's hand. W-h-a-t w-r-o-n-g? John didn't waste letters. There wasn't a point. His question was clear.

Sherlock looked down, eyebrow raised slightly.

"The thing's they're saying. Don't they bother you? I shouldn't have brought you here… It was stupid on my part. It's not a particularly good idea for you to be exposed to this type of thing…"

John gave him a pointed look.

"You know what I mean. It may trigger a panic attack. I'd rather these _idiots_ didn't see you like that."

John looked slightly offended.

"You _know_ what I mean. They are assholes. They will not hesitate to poke and jab at you because you're close to me… I'm sorry. You never have to come with me again."

C-r-a-z-y

"I am not. High-Functioning Sociopath, remember?"

S-u-r-e

"Don't sass me. I'll make you wait out here."

John raised his eyebrows in slight fear. He didn't want to be left by himself, let alone with all these scary people.

"That's what I thought."

P-r-i-k

"You spelled that wrong."

R-e-d-o?

"Okay."

S-h-e-r-l-o-c-k

Sherlock's lip twitched up in a smile. "Spelling is not your strength today. Now you've misspelled 'brilliant'"

John grinned widely.

Greg came back over. "Now you two have telepathy? We really need to talk later."

They went in. It was a boring murder. Sherlock solved it within the first five minutes of seeing the body. But he asked John for his opinion.

John got a small notebook, taking in the details. When he believed himself done, he gave the notepad to Sherlock.

"John."

John looked down, ready for Sherlock to say he was disappointed… but it never came.

"I'm going to say this once and once only. I'm impressed."

John's head shot up, so did Lestrade's and the stupid guy named Anderson.

"This is all correct. The part about the dog is a bit off, but the rest is phenomenal."

John beamed. He decided he liked crime scenes.

Sherlock turned to Lestrade. "Your murderer is the person who has green ink on their left hand. I would start with the sister's boyfriend."

John and Sherlock left.

An hour later, Lestrade sent Sherlock a text saying he was coming over for dinner and that he'd bring it.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow to John, John nodded.

When Lestrade came in, John helped him carry the food.

They all sat down… then Lestrade launched into questions.

"Why are you here?"

"I-I live here…?"

"No, I mean, of all the places an eleven and a half year old could be, why _here_?"

John looked to Sherlock for help.

"He's my assistant."

Lestrade didn't push anymore. When Sherlock got up and said he had to use the bathroom, John knew he didn't because Sherlock tapped out that Lestrade wanted to ask John questions without Sherlock in the room. John said it was okay for him to leave… but not far.

As soon as Sherlock closed the bathroom door, Lestrade turned back to John.

"Be honest with me here. Does Sherlock treat you well?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

"He doesn't… you know, touch you, does he?"

John was confused. Sherlock didn't hit him like his dad had. Was that what Lestrade was talking about? "I don't think I understand…"

Lestrade's face slackened. "Good. That's good."

"What did you mean?"

"You'll know when you're older."

"That's a dumb answer."

"I suppose it is, but it's not my place to explain _that_ to you."

"I'll just ask Sherlock when you leave."

Lestrade laughed. Sherlock came back right then.

"Okay, John and I have to get back to our lessons. Good night, Gorge."

Lestrade sighed very loud and looked at John. "My name is Greg. I don't know why he insists on forgetting. You'll remember though, won't you?"

John nodded. Greg wasn't so bad after all.

John asked Sherlock about what Greg had said. Sherlock sighed. When John was eleven and a half… he got _the talk_. Sherlock wasn't nearly as mortified as John was… but, slowly, John began to find it fascinating. Sherlock had to plan a part two. John's questions were valid and they may as well come from someone the boy knows… Sherlock refused to acknowledge how much he wished John had been normal and found it too awkward to talk about… but Sherlock couldn't help but admire the boy's curiosity.

Within a year, John was stable enough to ask to go to school. He was talkative, he slept, though it was plagued by nightmares, he ate, still little, but at least more than Sherlock did in a day, he even stopped using morse code when he was scared, though, Sherlock made sure they stayed caught up with it… just in case.

John really wanted this and Sherlock… well Sherlock couldn't deny him anything, not when John had worked up all of his courage to ask and come _so_ far. And Sherlock and John had worked very hard to get John caught up. Sherlock wanted to see if John really was ready. He was. He made the top of all his classes with little to no trouble… even so, Sherlock kept the idea of maybe taking John out.

John was an outcast. Sherlock hated it. John was the nicest boy ever, yet people poked, pushed and made fun of him because he happened to live with Sherlock. Sherlock was outraged, but John assured him he was happy. He'd heard it all before, the pushing was nothing, either.

It made Sherlock want to track down whoever John's dad had been and kill him. That human scum didn't deserve to breath the same air as anyone, let alone John. Shortly after, Sherlock started to teach John the basics of all of the fighting he'd learned over his life. John was very good at this as well. It made Sherlock feel better about sending John to school by himself. Even if he did get calls from time to time. John refused to push back, but Sherlock was content to know he could if he needed to.

John had no records. He was never in the school system. His birth certificate had gone up in the house fire and the only legal document that he was alive had somehow been pulled from the system. Mycroft had put John into the system with Sherlock as his legal guardian.

John had truly gotten to start over. Sherlock would do anything for the kid, and he knew the sentiment was returned.

* * *

John woke up a little while later. It was dark, but he could see light from the windows. John sat up slowly, not making a sound. When he was in an upright position, he glanced down at the cat. His breathing had evened out. John checked the pulse. It was stronger than it had been. John didn't let himself dwell on it. The kitten was getting better. That's all that mattered.

He didn't see Sherlock, but he could hear rustling around in his room, so John assumed he was awake. John slowly got off the ground, rolling his shoulder, a night on the floor was probably not the best thing for him right now… but the stairs seemed daunting.

He decided to check on Sherlock.

He didn't knock, Sherlock hated that. Something about arbitrary personal bubbles not applying when you lived together.

"Sherlock…?" John whispered.

Sherlock was laying in his bed, a rare occurrence, and was tossing and turning. He was mumbling to himself… John made out his name and again with the ducks… John realized it was rude to listen in. He nodded to himself, got the blanket and pulled it over Sherlock. Then he walked back into the living room. The couch would do for the night.

He looked down at the kitten once more. It looked fine. John thought about everything both he and the cat had been through… they were both fine…

And, John, small on the couch, looked up and smiled.

John listened to the cat's even breaths and Sherlock talking in his sleep in the other room.

Baker Street wasn't quiet… but John would hate it if it were.

"I found home, mum. You'd be happy." John slept a relatively peaceful sleep.

When John was thirteen… Things were great. Better yet, they were _good_.

* * *

 **Well? Good, Bad, Alright? Lemme know... I think this is my favorite chapter so far.**

 **Next one may not be up for a little while... But I'll try.**

 **Hope this was nice!**

 **xoxo**

 **~Miss Taken**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Hi... Miss Taken here... Sorry this has taken so long... Um, all the way up to chapter nine have been done for a while..._**

 ** _Sorry guys! I'll post more, I promise! I just..._**

 ** _I'm kinda cheating on my first love (Fanfiction. net) With my_ true _love (Ao3)..._**

 ** _You can catch me over there updating more often... I'll still post here for the time being though._**

 ** _Enjoy this chapter!_**

* * *

John woke up, ready to embrace the boringness that accompanied the weekend… Then he remembered what had happened last night. He looked over at his new companion who was sleeping peacefully. It was rather quiet in the flat. That silence was shattered a moment later when John heard Sherlock shouting from his room.

"I don't _care_ if it's not your division." A thunk, signalling Sherlock probably threw his phone down.

John meekly got up from the couch, stiff and wholly unrested. He checked on the cat, still dozing on the soft blanket it had been laid on the night previous, not stirring at Sherlock's yelling.

John shuffled to Sherlock's door and raised his hand to knock, only to have the door flung open and a tall figure nearly pummel him. John quickly sidestepped to avoid being stepped on.

"Apologies. Did I wake you?"

"No. I was up. I just heard you on the phone and wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Fantastic." Sherlock was very curt, walking into the kitchen to check on a petri dish… only to be frustrated a moment later and storm into the living room. John watched silently. He sighed and put tea on for the both of them.

"So… that was Lestrade on the phone?"

Sherlock grunted in what John took to mean 'yes'.

"What's not his division?"

"A break in."

"Well, he is a-"

"No, John. This pertains to murder. It is _definitely_ his division."

"Oh… Are you going to look at it in his place?" John asked in hope of Sherlock taking him along.

"Maybe."

"Can I go?"

"No."

"B-but-"

"You have to tend to your new parasite."

"I thought you didn't mind him staying here…"

"I do. However, I will allow it because you live here to."

"I-I can find a new home for him if you want me to…"

"No. If you get rid of that creature, I will hunt him down and bring him back."

"But… you don't like him."

"You do."

"W-well-" John picked up the tea, making Sherlock's first, then his own. He did this fluidly and efficiently.

"It's not safe, John. I'm not putting you in danger. You attract enough as is." Sherlock stared pointedly at the kitten, who picked that moment to start stirring.

"I'm leaving now."

"Call me if you need me." John said, still hoping Sherlock would change his mind.

The door shut. "Or want me…" John was left holding two cups of tea, staring after the door.

He wasn't happy about it, being left behind again. He looked at the Leo, who was quietly looking back up at him.

"Oh, hello. Um, I'm John." John felt a little odd introducing himself to a cat, but at least it was something to do while he checked on the cat's stab wound.

"I- um, fixed up your injuries. You're going to stay here… If you want, that is." John could not believe he was freezing up around a cat. In his defense, though, the cat seemed to have an awareness that one doesn't normally see in animals.

"Well, I, um, I've decided to call you Leo, you know, like a Lion… I hope that's okay?"

The cat seemed to nod.

"Is it okay if I check on your bandages?"

Another nod.

"… You're really intelligent." The cat preened at the complement. John smiled, giggling slightly. "Maybe I should've named you 'Sherlock'."

The cat tilted its head.

"Oh, you'll meet him soon… He left right as you were waking up."

John went about checking and cleaning the wounds. They looked much better without the blood caking the surrounding fur.

"These look actually pretty okay. Does it hurt."

The cat looked at him like he was an idiot. John winced. "Yeah… Sorry, question of habit, I guess."

The cat huffed. John picked up and started to get ready for the day. It was nearly eleven and he'd done nothing.

"I need to get some things for you… I don't think you'd like not having food… I'll go to the store in a few minutes. I just… I don't want to leave you alone… And I really don't think you should move right now…"

Just to spite him, Leo picked that moment to stand up and walk to the kitchen, limping terribly, but determination in his step.

"You are… really stubborn." John mumbled to himself. Leo meowed and John got up to see what he was so concerned about. It was the stove. Something bubbled on the top… It looked like water, but as it splashed out of the pot, it sizzled and burned the stove… best not to touch it… John did, however, turn the stove off. Sherlock needed to stop leaving it on. John wrote a post-it note and stuck it on the knob.

"Yeah, that would be Sherlocks… He's a mess, really. Though he'll never say so. Good job catching it… wouldn't want an accident, would we, now."

Leo seemed content with the exchange, stretching slightly and going back to the living room.

"I think I'm going to go to the store… Want to come along?" Leo cocked his head. As if to say ' _how?_ '

"I have a hoodie with a very large front pocket," It was actually Sherlock's, but Leo didn't need to know that… neither did Sherlock. "…I think you'll fit. But you have to stay in there… They don't like pets at the store…"

Leo understood. John was still intrigued by that. He'd have to ask Sherlock… when Leo wasn't around… He didn't want to insult him.

"Well, let me get out of my pajamas… Do you think you'll be alright for a few minutes?"

Leo went back to the makeshift bed made of towels, snuggling in.

"Okay… Back in a jiffy." John sprinted up the stairs, not wanting Leo to be kept waiting. When he was wearing his standard street attire, he walked back down, sneaking into Sherlock's room to get the hoodie that was much too big… and smelled like death and drugs. Sherlock hadn't wore it in a very long time and it was buried deep enough that you couldn't smell it until you pulled it out… but it was John's only option unless he put Leo into a backpack… and John _knew_ that would end badly.

Plus, it didn't smell that bad, did it?…John smelled it again deciding that using some of Sherlock's cologne to cover up the smell wouldn't be a bad idea. He would use his own, but that would be even more suspicious if he put it back into Sherlock's closet and it smelled like John… And John just liked Sherlock's better.

John had no delusions that Sherlock wouldn't know, but he could at least delay the inevitable…

He walked out, pulling it on over his head. Leo looked up at his as if to say ' _You're kidding, right?'_ John shook his head and sat on the couch to pull his shoes on.

"Listen, it's the _only_ way if you want to go… If it wouldn't get me weird looks, I'd put you in one of Mrs. Hudson's purses… but that's basically _asking_ for trouble… I'll wash it and make sure it's clean next time." Leo looked offended at John thinking there would be a 'next time', but with an exasperated sigh, well, what _sounded_ like one, he jumped in and crawled into the pocket. His head poked out one side, only to poke it back in and promptly close his eyes and nap.

"See, like a hammock." John decided he didn't need a coat because of the hoodie, and grabbed his keys, wallet, phone and an empty bookbag. He didn't want to carry plastic bags anymore.

John put his hands in the pocket, slightly cradling Leo. He got a nibble on the fingers, but John decided it was loving enough, so he left his hands there. The walk to the store was quiet and peaceful, John hummed to himself, mumbling song lyrics that were slightly tweaked.

" _Sherlock Holmes' jacket, Sherlock Holmes' jacket is falling apart."_ He laughed, pleased with himself for being so clever.

Leo meowed, signalling to John that the song was as lame as he was.

"You know, you're not very nice to someone who saved your life not twenty-four hours ago." John huffed. Leo licked John's fingers. "Oh no, I can't stay mad at you… you're going to be spoiled rotten." He told the cat grimmly.

When they got to the store, John tried not to look suspicious… it was hard though, he was convinced that everyone was looking at him. He was getting jittery… even though he _knew_ the worst that would happen was they asked him to leave… and even if they _did_ call the police, John was on pretty good terms with everyone at the yard…

"Even so… we should hurry… I feel like I'm being stared at…" Leo nibbled his finger comfortingly.

John grabbed some cat food… he didn't know what else a cat needed, honestly.

"...can you think of anything else…? I'm sure there's more to it than this… I don't want to ask someone though…"

John figured Leo could just use some of John's styrofoam bowls for food and water… "Cat litter! That's what we need!" Leo bit John's hand in encouragement.

"I figure you aren't one to like toys… but I'll get this one just in case…" John picked up a little stuffed kitten that looked strikingly like Leo… But this one had feathers on its back. John giggled a little thinking what Leo would look like with feathers.

A sharp bite and John was convinced Leo could read minds. "Oh, it's funny and you know it."

"Who you talkin' to, kid?"

John must have jumped nearly a foot in the air. He turned around to find Sebastian with a shopping basket.

"N-no one? Hi Sebastian, how are you?"

"I'm fine. Don't change the subject, I know you were talking to someone. You can't fool me."

"Um… I may or may not have a kitten named Leo in my pocket."

"That's the weirdest sentence I've heard today… but it is only noon, I suppose. So, are you just getting things for your Schrodinger cat?"

"...Who?"

"John. I'm so disappointed. How do you _not_ know him? Especially living with _Sherlock_."

"I think was one of our first lessons… I can't really remember those ones so well…" John took a hand out of his pocket to rub the back of his neck, only to wince when his stitches were pulled uncomfortably.

"John. Did you injure your hand?"

"I laid it in glass by accident…"

"That doesn't surprise me."

"Yeah…"

"It _does_ worry me. Where was Sherlock?"

"Um…"

"You're _kidding_ me. He wasn't there?"

John shook his head, looking down at his feet.

"Why do you smell like a drug den?"

"I borrowed Sherlock's hoodie so I could bring Leo with me… I didn't have time to wash it…" John had gone nose blind, only smelling the stuff he'd sprayed on it.

"Wait, wait wait, _back up_. Why does _Sherlock's_ jacket smell like a drug den?"

"He used to be an addict…? I, um, we don't talk about that, among other things. He also used it to go under cover a few times. He's not any more, though, I promise. Well, he smokes cigarettes sometimes, but not often because he knows I'll yell at him."

"If I find out he does more than smoke tobacco, I'm not going to be happy."

John nodded again. "Me either…"

"Where is the great detective now?"

"...Out."

Sebastian sighed. "Want to come back to my place to hang out for a while? I have to leave at like half past six, but until then, we can watch movies or play games or whatever."

"Actually, that sounds great… Would it be okay if-"

"I swear to god, kid, if you don't quit being polite, I'm gonna lose my mind."

"...Okay."

"It's settled. Here, that looks heavy." Sebastian could see John struggling with only one hand.

"I got it." John was strong enough to do it himself… And he didn't want Sebastian to have to hold his things.

Leo picked that moment to knead John's stomach, making John flinch and drop the cat food.

"Ow! Leo, you little shit, you did that on purpose!" Leo purred in reply. Sebastian laughed while picking up the bag.

"I like this cat already and I haven't seen the little guy yet."

"You both are going to be best friends, I just know it." John mumbled, then, louder, "I'm going to text Sherlock to let him know."

 _ **I'm going to Sebastian's house to hang out. Lemme know if you need me.**_

 _ **-JW**_

John smiled. "Okay. Let me pay for this and we can go."

"I'll walk with you. I need to pay for my things anyway."

They paid for the stuff and made their way towards the door. John's phone buzzed.

 _ **K**_

 _ **-SH**_

John frowned.

"Something wrong?"

"No, just worried about him."

"Don't. He'll be fine. Let's get going."

They walked. John pulled Leo out and Sebastian held him. Sebastian had always wanted a cat, but with his job that was impossible. He would definitely insist that John brought Leo over whenever they hung out.

When they got to Sebastian's place, John asked for a bowl to put some food in. He was sure Leo was starving, then he realized he hadn't eaten yet either. He still wasn't quite hungry, though.

"I'm going to make lunch. Anything you want in particular?"

"Oh, um, no, I ate already."

"Bull shit. I'm making sandwiches." Sebastian would be damned if he wasn't going to feed the kid. "What do you want?"

"U-um, peanut butter and jelly?"

"I can do that." Sebastian took Leo into the kitchen and got a bowl for the food and another for water. Sebastian made the sandwiches quickly and efficiently, putting slightly more jelly on John's, as Leo munched away happily. John walked in and smiled.

"I knew you were hungry!" The cat promptly ignored him, favoring his food for the moment. Sebastian handed John his sandwich.

"Thank you!"

"Let's eat in the living room. I'm sure we can find something to watch." Right when the were seated, Leo came pattering in, still limping slightly. John picked him up and deposited him on the couch. Leo fell asleep the instant he was put down.

"He sleeps a lot."

"Well, he did get stabbed yesterday… I think he's entitled to a little rest."

"I'm sorry, he _what_?"

"Oh… I guess that's not really a normal thing… Yeah, the door to our flat was open and letting rain in… I went to shut it when Leo knocked over a vase… That's why I've got a cut on my hand… and I found him covered in blood under the little hall table.

"I couldn't very well leave him there… so I fixed him up. He lives with us now." John smiled softly, rubbing the cat's little head.

"Are you aware of how infuriating you are?" John's heart dropped, he immediately dropped his hand and looked into his lap, back going rimrod straight.

"…I-I'm s-sorry…" John felt like he was going to cry. Sebastian wanted to take it back right away. He hadn't meant it to sound harsh…

"Don't be, I'm the one who should be sorry. Infuriating was a strong word. You just attract so much trouble, it's worrying."

"O-oh."

John's phone rang.

"It's Sherlock!" John said with glee, glad for the distraction. "Hel-"

" _Put Sebastian on."_

"O-oh… okay…" John handed the phone dejectedly to the older man. Sebastian got up and walked to his room. Force of habit, really.

"Moran."

" _I need John to stay with you tonight."_

"I have work."

" _It's too dangerous at Baker Street right now."_ Sebastian sighed. John couldn't be alone. He caused too much trouble… He had an idea.

"… I think I know a guy who could keep him company until I get back."

" _He doesn't need a babysitter. He needs a safe place for the night."_

"And I live in a shitty part of town and he attracts _every_ type of trouble. I don't want him here alone."

" _Fine. I have to go. Give my regards to John."_ The line clicked.

Sebastian sighed again. He walked out to find John looking eagerly at him. "Did he say he needed me?"

"No. You're staying here tonight."

"B-but you have work, don't you?"

"Yes. I have a guy who is going to come over if you say that it's okay. I would really like you not to be here by yourself."

"Um, I-I don't-"

"It's okay. He couldn't hurt a fly. I have no doubt he'll behave himself. You can call Sherlock if you really don't feel comfortable."

"O-okay…"

"Now, we have some time until I leave. Want to play some video games?"

"Only if you go easy on me… I've never played."

"You _what_."

"Y-yeah. I- um, well, I've never had the chance."

"Well, now's the time to start."

They played again and again. Over and over Sebastian, unsurprisingly, wiped the floor with John.

After the tenth mission John failed Sebastian paused. "Oh, kid, we are going to make a gamer of you yet."

"You're just saying that because you like to win and want an easy person to play against." John accused, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Okay, that might be part of it. But, seriously, I think you'll like them once you really get into them."

John sighed. "I think you cheated."

"You can't call hacks if it's all skill."

"Can you hack a game like this?" John really wasn't as good with technology as someone his age should be.

"Oh, you poor, naive fool, you have so much to learn."

"Right…" John checked his phone. "Bloody hell, how is it nearly five?"

"Time flies when you're losing miserably." Sebastian stretched and got off the couch. He needed to start getting into the work mindset and make a call, much as he hated to do it.

"Hey, I'm going to go call my friend. Feel free to play a single player round."

"...I'll try."

Sebastian walked into his room, sighing. He picked up his phone… This was a _really_ bad idea…It wasn't too late to change his mind. But it might work better in the long run. Maybe. Hopefully…

When he heard the loudness of the telly from the other room, Sebastian steeled his nerves. How bad could it be?

He dialed.

" _Sebby! How_ are _you? I didn't think I'd hear from you today. Did you finish your job?"_

"No. I'm doing that tonight. I had a… lets say _proposition_ for you. Would you be interested?"

" _From you? Sebby, I'm flattered, but you must know I actually-"_

"Nope, no way. Not that kind of proposition. Our dear detective has informed me that it's too dangerous for the kid at home tonight. John is staying here."

" _You want_ me _to babysit? Sebby, are you sure you're feeling well?"_ Sebastian could hear the glee in his Boss's voice.

"I left the job off too long. I can't wait another night, but I don't want the kid to be alone… Unfortunately, you're my only option."

" _You wound me, tiger."_ Mock hurt. Sebastian had his Boss on board.

"I'm leaving at six. Can you be here in that time?"

" _Sure. I just have to break out of prison and run to one of the flats to get some normal clothes. I'll be there at half past six."_

"I'm going to make a list of things to do and not to do."

" _Aw, you take away all my fun!"_

"Also, I think it would be best if he didn't know it was _you_."

" _Oh, Sebby. You poor thing. Did you think I would show up and just announce_ all _my plans? We've been apart far too long if you can't remember how I am."_ A fake sniffle this time.

"Best vacation of my life."

" _Ouch."_

"I'm serious though. One of your personas or whatever."

" _I know just the one."_ The line went dead.

It was almost worse that the Boss was excited. Almost. If he got bored, it could end very, _very_ badly.

Sebastian walked out to find John on the fail screen. He chuckled a little. John was pouting and petting Leo, but when he heard Sebastian, he turned around and smiled.

"I failed… But I lasted almost three full minutes by myself!"

"Improvement, and, for this being your first time, I'm impressed."

John tried to hold in a laugh.

"What. What's funny?"

"I'm an immature high school student… Rethink what you say if you don't want me to laugh…" John lost it, laughing and turning slightly red.

"Oh, ha ha." Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Okay. My friend is coming over soonish. I think we should write a list of rules."

"I promise I'll be good…"

"I meant for him… I know you will. I'm more asking him to come over to keep you company… Really, you two will be, more or less, unsupervised teenagers. Don't let him talk you into doing dumb things."

"Oh…"

"Don't worry, you two will get along, you're _both_ immature as hell."

John laughed. "Okay. What kind of rules."

"I'll write up the basics. Then you and I will go back in and make sure there are no loopholes."

"Loopholes?"

"Yes. He's very good with contracts and bending rules."

"Oh…" John was reminded of Sherlock again. "What kind of rules do we need to be specific about?"

"The list for what we don't have to be specific is shorter."

John nodded. "How about we both start on the basics and then we'll compare notes."

"Good idea."

They got to work. Sebastian wished he didn't have to write things like 'Kitchen utensils are not to touch unless John supervises.' But he really didn't want to come home tomorrow with two dead bodies and a pile of rubble for living in.

John didn't know how detailed he had to be, so he wrote it as if it was for Sherlock. He wrote things that would be common sense for a child, but not for a genius.

Finally, after fifteen straight minutes, they came together, putting their papers side by side.

After they thoroughly went through it, they had about three full pages of loopholeless rules. Sebastian had also written up an itinerary sort of thing so they didn't spend all night playing video games. The Boss was equally as bad at them so Sebastian set out some of the easier games for the two of them. He didn't know if the Boss would even want to play, but just in case. He didn't want John to climb up the shelf again. The Boss probably couldn't catch him. Or even try… Sebastian thought, for the hundredth time, that this was a bad idea.

The itinerary was for the Boss's eyes only. The only things on it were for the Boss to feed John dinner, keep him happy, not make the kid stay up past midnight, not let John know who the Boss really was, not play mind games and keep everything safe and standing. Other than that, the Boss had free reign.

When everything was said and done, they only had about half an hour until Sebastian had to leave.

"I have to get ready. You can play another round or watch a movie, if you like." He got up, walking to the bathroom. He took the briefest of showers then got dressed in his work clothes. When he was finished, he started to get into the mindset, pulling on his boots."

"Okay, John. I'm leaving. He'll be here in about twenty minutes. Call Sherlock if you have any problems. Try to keep the place standing… and don't let him intimidate you. He can't do anything to you, so don't worry."

"Be careful and be safe!"

Sebastian just grinned, but it looked more feral than it had looked before. It scared John a little, but he knew Sebastian wouldn't do anything to hurt him… He trusted Sebastian more than he probably should.

When the door closed, John sat next to Leo, leaning his head on the arm, pulling his legs close.

Waiting for a stranger to knock.

"I hope he's nice…" John dozed off, not quite sleeping but snoring lightly. Leo laid on his lap, pawing and kneading.

John didn't move a muscle.

* * *

 _ **Since the next chapter is done it will be up fairly soon...**_

 _ **Sorry again for the delay!**_

 _ **p.s. The song John is humming/ singing is 'Jennifer's Jacket' by Presidents of the United States of America**_

 _ **Not impertinent, but it's a nice song...**_

 _ **xoxo,**_

 __ **Miss Taken**


	9. Chapter 9

**Next chapter...**

 **(Also! Please note the rating change... It's not for this chapter, but it does play a big part in chapter 11... then basically ALL of 12... I apologize in advance!)**

 **Yeeeaahhh, so uh, sorry this took so long...?**

 **I think that I thought I posted it already...**

 **that and I just forgot...**

 **Sorry for any and all mistakes!**

 **Please enjoy!**

* * *

John shot up when he heard a firm knock on the door. He rubbed his eyes as he carefully lifted Leo off his lap. He walked over to the door hesitantly. If it _wasn't_ Sebastian's friend, what would he do? What it it was a robber or a murderer? He knew self defense but what if they had a gun? He hadn't brought his again…

"I really, _really_ , need to quit forgetting it…" He stepped in front of the door and stared. Maybe the person would just go away. Another knock and John knew he wouldn't be so lucky.

"H-hello?" John called out.

"Hello. Sebastian said you needed someone to hang out with?" Came the muffled reply.

John breathed in. He had to open the door. It would be fine. He had Sherlock on speed dial… It would be okay.

"Can I come in?"

"O-oh, yeah…" John scrambled to the door. As he opened it, he saw a man. He was probably in his mid twenties… Perhaps a year or two older than Sherlock. He had dark hair and dark eyes. He wore what looked to be pajamas and was clearly amused by the sight of John.

That put him on edge, but he didn't know why. The man seemed harmless. He was shorter than Sebastian… maybe 5' 8", still taller than John himself, but not as imposing as Sherlock and Sebastian could be. His face was soft.

"Hello. I'm Richard Brook. You're John?"

"O-oh, um, yes, sir."

"Oh, come now, it's just us. No need to call me 'sir'. It makes me sound old."

John just nodded. Leo trotted over to John, sitting in front of him as if to protect him. John wasn't sure what to think of Mr. Brook. He seemed to be harmless, but John had a suspicion that wasn't quite right…

John picked Leo up so Mr. Brook could come in. "U-um, he said to give you th-this list." John handed him the four pages.

"Wow. I was expecting only a page… I'm sure this is loophole-free?" John nodded. "Impressive." He seemed pleased… John shuffled.

Mr. Brook sighed. "You don't have to be so nervous. I'm really not as threatening as you seem to think."

John shuffled his feet, not looking up, cradling Leo close. Leo, for his part, refused to take his eyes off Mr. Brook. John just wanted to break the silence.

"So, um, what do you do?"

"I dabble here and there, but if you were to search my name, I would be an actor." Mr. Brook looked up from the list. "Alright, he said to make you dinner. It's nearly seven. What would you like?"

"I-um…"

"How about breakfast for dinner?" John almost whimpered, but he held it. He used to make pancakes and eggs with Harry for their mother when she worked late. It was never good, but she always ate it, complementing how much better it had been. He hoped Mr. Brook didn't see it, but John had to take a steadying breath.

"U-um, that sounds great… " John bit his lip lightly. "C-can I help…?"

"If you want to."

John nodded.

"So, what do you want, Johnny?"

John stopped. His breathing harsher now. "U-um, just John if you don't mind… Johnny makes it sound like I'm little." That wasn't the real reason, but it sounded reasonable enough for a boy his age to say.

"Sorry, I've got a problem with pet names." Mr. Brook shrugged. "So, eggs, pancakes… toast?"

John nodded. Upset with himself for not being able to list anything. He knew it was inconvenient… and frustrating, but he was really trying. "That sounds good, sir." John cringed, he hadn't meant to let it slip, but he was focusing so hard on trying not to call Sherlock, he forgot.

John could see Mr. Brook profiling his every move, and John did _not_ appreciate it. John had to spend the next few hours with this man… He couldn't _read_ him. It was horribly unnerving. John was supposed to be good at this… But everything was wrong about this man. His face was soft and tired looking, his hair was a mess, but he kept patting it down, suggesting it was usually slicked back… He wore clothes for lazing about but kept pulling the cardigan tighter, suggesting close fitting clothes were more his style and he wasn't used to wearing what he was…

Everything about him was wrong… it was like he _wanted_ John to think he wasn't a threat so he dressed down and made himself smaller. It was working, but John knew this trick. He'd used it and he'd seen Sherlock use it too. But at the same time it looked like he _wanted_ John to catch him in his lie.

"John, it's rude to stare. If you want to ask a question, ask away."

"I-um, no… I just like that color…" John cringed at the cover up. He sat down, waiting for instructions. They didn't come, but John was ready to move. He noticed Mr. Brook moving around, but it didn't fully register. He moved so fluidly… he was so confident in his moves. John was confused and Leo refused to leave John's lap or take his eyes off Mr. Brook for even a fraction of a second.

"It's my favorite." That was true… but that didn't mean he _liked_ that particular article of clothing. "I figured we wouldn't be going anywhere so why wear anything but sleepwear. I hope you'll forgive me for my state of undress."

John nodded, remembering, begrudgingly, that he was stuck in these clothes until tomorrow. He didn't want to… they smelled like drugs and sweat thanks to Sherlock's hoodie… but he didn't have any to change into. He hoped Mr. Brook wouldn't assume things about him or Sherlock… He supposed it wasn't a very good first impression. He shook his head minutely, why did he care? Why did he want to impress this man that he couldn't read? It should be frightening, not thrilling… _Oh, no._ John thought. _I'm addicted to danger._ Maybe drugs would have been better.

Mr. Brook's voice shattered his thoughts.

"You may not have wanted to ask me anything at that moment, but I have some questions for you. Just to get the conversation rolling."

John nodded. "As long as it doesn't break the rules…" John knew there was a rule about not being allowed to force answers out of one another, mostly to protect John, but it had to be fair.

"Ah, you're no fun. Rules are there to be broken."

John scooted back in the chair a little. He didn't like the dark look Mr. Brook gave him when he said that.

"But perhaps another night. I only have very boring questions for you tonight, I'm afraid."

"U-um,okay…" John refused to be disappointed. Boring was good. Boring was _safe_.

"What do you think of Sebastian?"

"Well, you can't tell him… But I'd say he's my best friend… Aside from Sherlock, of course… He's very nice… nicer than anybody in whatever work he does should be… I'm sorry, that doesn't make very much sense… I'm not very good with words…"

Mr. Brook seemed to pick apart these words as John said them it could be taken as interest, but John felt it was more of a… what was the word… John had learned it in class… _coercion_ he thought… _with pressure_. John was relaxing slightly… but not because he felt better.

"He is what I consider my only friend. I can assure you he is not nice to anyone besides you or myself." Mr. Brook laughed for a moment before adding, "Scratch that, anyone besides you."

"Th-that can be right…" John thought back to Mycroft and Sherlock… he hadn't been nice to them, but that wasn't a good comparison… he was distant from the students and teachers at school… but he wasn't actively mean…

"Sorry, Johnny, you're special." Mr. Brook grinned.

It was slightly twisted, John refused to look for a deeper meaning in it.

"How is school going?" John thought he saw something akin to eagerness flash in Mr. Brook's face… but he couldn't read this man well, so he refused to acknowledge it.

"It's going well. We have these pen pals in our English class… I don't know what to think of mine… but it's my favorite assignment in all my time I've been at school."

Mr. Brook smiled like he was pleased with the answer. "I wish we could have had pen pals in our school… Talking to a criminal being not just allowed but _encouraged_? My, how times have changed."

John didn't miss how Mr. Brook somehow knew they were prisoners… But he chalked it up to Sebastian just chatting about his school job.

"Now I have a question…"

"Shoot."

"Just how old _are_ you?" John blushed a little. "That came out so much harsher than I expected… I didn't mean it like that. I-" Mr. Brook held up a hand, chuckling a little.

"I understand. Don't get your pants in a bunch. I am twenty six as of last month." John had been right. Only two years older than Sherlock.

Great. Now he was thinking about Sherlock again. He wanted so badly to check on him, but he knew Sherlock said only to text him while on a case if he needed something and call if it was an emergency.

"Wow. I thought you were younger…" John said politely. He had finally gotten his words to work with him. He didn't stutter as much. John thanked whoever was listening for that. As long as Mr. Brook asked questions that weren't too personal, John could get through it… probably.

"Oh, how flattering." Mr. Brook smiled. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen as of a few months ago…"

"Any friends at school?"

"U-Um…" John scolded himself for not being able to answer the question straight. "Not really… all people who can be considered my friends are older. Mr. Lestrade, Sebastian, Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson… I think even Mrs. Hooper could be considered a friend… But I guess it's not the same…"

"If you like, I could be your friend."

John hesitated… Mr. Brook seemed trustworthy… But John had a feeling the man in front of him wasn't _really_ named Mr. Brook… John was confused. That didn't make sense… But he had a hunch.

He wished Sherlock was here. _He_ would know what to make of this man…

John was weary about this man… But he _was_ charming and likable. As long as John kept an eye on him, he didn't see why not. John grinned. "Okay… I think we'll be good friends."

"Well, to celebrate our new friendship, let's dig in." John jumped as a plate was set in front of him. There was no way they had talked long enough for the man to magic up some food… Time seemed to fly by… John hadn't even helped like he said he would… But it _did_ smell heavenly. John made a promise that if this happened again, he would help.

He took a bite and almost melted. "This is amazing."

"There you go with that flattery again." The man smiled, picking up his own fork full.

John was mystified with how good it was. He didn't mean to, but it also added to the man's undeniable charisma.

John didn't regret being his friend very much. John could tell he was dangerous and, as much as he tried to stop it, he couldn't help but get giddy with excitement.

Boring may be safe, but dangerous was _fun_.

* * *

Jim had gotten his most benign persona. He wanted John. Wanted the boy to trust him completely. When he did, well, then he could have some fun. He had an experiment in mind and John was the _perfect_ test subject. He schooled the grin he knew looked dangerous.

Sebastian had told him the kid was good at reading people… Jim intended to test that tonight.

He knocked, waited, then, knocked again. He heard the kid shuffle to the door but didn't open it. Jim grinned. Johnny was _scared_. It was so delicious, he wanted to scare him. He took a breath and knocked again.

"The meek response almost made him squeal. "H-hello?"

"Hello. Sebastian said you needed someone to hang out with?" Jim breathed out. He couldn't scare Johnny too bad or else he would never trust Jim. "Can I come in?"

"O-oh, yeah…" He could hear John scramble to the door. As he opened it, Jim saw a small boy with blonde hair. He was short and stocky, dark blue eyes shimmered with sleep. Jim was ecstatic the boy was meek. That would make it easier to manipulate him.

"Hello. I'm Richard Brook. You're John?"

"O-oh, um, yes, sir." _Delicious_. Jim thought. He almost shivered.

"Oh, come now, it's just us. No need to call me 'sir'. It makes me sound old."

John just nodded. A small kitten trotted over to John, sitting in front of him as if to protect the kid.

John picked Leo up to clear the way. "U-um, he said to give you th-this list." John handed him the four pages.

"Wow. I was expecting only a page… I'm sure this is loophole-free?" John nodded. "Impressive." Jim smiled. His pet wasn't taking any chances. These were _very_ detailed, indeed. He saw John shuffling and sighed. Meek maybe manipulative, but it didn't make it any less annoying.

"You don't have to be so nervous. I'm really not as threatening as you seem to think."

John shuffled his feet, again. The cat wouldn't stop staring. While John was looking at his feet, Jim flashed his teeth for the cat to see. Then John looked up and Jim went back to looking at the itinerary, obviously he knew all of it.

"So, um, what do you do?"

Jim decided it would be fun to drop hints here and there. "I dabble here and there, but if you were to search my name, I would be an actor." He looked up. "Alright, he said to make you dinner. It's nearly seven. What would you like?" Jim knew the kid couldn't answer, but he wanted to make it seem like he had all the answers. It would make things easier.

"I-um…"

"How about breakfast for dinner?" Jim was close to learning at the memory he could see flit before John's eyes.

"U-um, that sounds great… " John bit his lip. "C-can I help…?"

"If you want to." Jim wouldn't let him, but he'd let the kid think he could.

"So, what do you want, Johnny?" He smiled to cover the smirk. He wanted to see how John would react to it.

John stopped. His breathing harsher now. "U-um, just John if you don't mind… Johnny makes it sound like I'm little." _Delicious_. Jim thought. That had been better than he hoped for.

"Sorry, I've got a problem with pet names." Jim faked an apology. "So, eggs, pancakes… toast?" He turned the oven on, letting it warm up.

John nodded. "That sounds good, sir." Jim wished he could purr. It was horribly distracting to be called 'sir' by this small child.

Jim could see the child's thoughts. Jim could _see_ the apprehension. See the _glorious_ confusion. Jim knew he was picking up on the clues. He almost jumped with joy. Johnny was proving to be very interesting.

"John, it's rude to stare. If you want to ask a question, ask away."

"I-um, no… I just like that color…" _You can do better than that, Johnny-boy._

"It's my favorite." It was true. But he didn't wear these clothes unless he was Richard Brook for a while. He was in a suit or naked. He _wished_ he could be in the latter right now. He didn't entertain that thought. John would catch on. The child was _very_ perceptive. Jim did allow himself to shiver slightly, though.

"I figured we wouldn't be going anywhere so why wear anything but sleepwear. I hope you'll forgive me for my state of undress."

John nodded. Jim could see him subtly smell himself. Jim hadn't missed the smell, but he wasn't going to say anything. Mostly because if he did, he _knew_ he wouldn't be able to control himself. He wanted to wait until his plans were further along for… _that_. Jim had to start talking or risk pushing Johnny against the table and not letting him up.

"You may not have wanted to ask me anything at that moment, but I have some questions for you. Just to get the conversation rolling."

"As long as it doesn't break the rules…" Jim started with the eggs, leaving them to slowly cook. He made the batter for pancakes before John could register it.

"Ah, you're no fun. Rules are there to be broken." Another lear.

John scooted back in the chair a little. Jim took pride in it, turning to put some batter on the pan. Cooked to perfection. Of course.

"But perhaps another night. I only have very boring questions for you tonight, I'm afraid."

"U-um,okay…" Jim tried not to let his heart stutter at the way John looked confused by being disappointed.

"What do you think of Sebastian?" It was a leading question, but he also wanted to know all the naughty things his pet could be getting up to with Johnny.

"Well, you can't tell him… But I'd say he's my best friend… Aside from Sherlock, of course… He's very nice… nicer than anybody in whatever work he does should be… I'm sorry, that doesn't make very much sense… I'm not very good with words…" _How sweet._ Jim absorbed every word. He stored every facial feature and inflection of Johnny's voice. Johnny was slowly taking up his own filing cabinet. He was disappointed to realize his pet had been true to his word and hadn't even thought about touching the kid. Jim wasn't that put out, though. That meant more for him.

Jim could see the child waiting for him to say something. "He is what I consider my only friend. I can assure you he is not nice to anyone besides you or myself." He laughed, thinking back to when Sebastian had let Jim get punched while at a pub once. His pet had told him he was off the clock… Jim looked back on it and laughed, but in the moment, he was livid.

"Scratch that, anyone besides you."

"Th-that can be right…

"Sorry, Johnny, you're special." _In more ways than one._ He didn't notice his grin until John looked uncomfortable.

"How is school going?" Jim was dying to know if he was enthusiastic about him having a pen pal.

"It's going well. We have these pen pals in our English class… I don't know what to think of mine… but it's my favorite assignment in all my time I've been at school."

He was pleased with the answer. "I wish we could have had pen pals in our school… Talking to a criminal being not just allowed but _encouraged_? My, how times have changed."

Jim could see that John wasn't going to question how he knew they were prisoners, but the child _hadn't_ missed it.

"Now I have a question…"

"Shoot."

"Just how old _are_ you?" John blushed a little. "That came out so much harsher than I expected… I didn't mean it like that. I-"

"I understand. Don't get your pants in a bunch. I am twenty six as of last month." Lies were easy if they were the truth.

"Wow. I thought you were younger…" John said politely. He had finally gotten his words to work with him. He didn't stutter as much as he had been. Jim was glad. He was getting frustrated with him.

"Oh, how flattering. How old are you?" Toast was last. With jam for John.

"Thirteen as of a few months ago…" But Jim already knew that.

"Any friends at school?"

"U-Um…" Jim almost groaned. Back to the stuttering. How boring. "Not really… all people who can be considered my friends are older. Mr. Lestrade, Sebastian, Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson… I think even Mrs. Hooper could be considered a friend… But I guess it's not the same…" _That's_ what he'd been waiting for. It was the perfect segway.

"If you like, I could be your friend."

John hesitated. Jim was almost giddy with how _almost_ smart the boy was. Jim could see the exact moment John made up his mind.

John grinned. "Okay… I think we'll be good friends."

"Well, to celebrate our new friendship, let's dig in." John jumped as a plate was set in front of him."This is amazing."

"There you go with that flattery again." Jim grinned. He could have easily drugged or poisoned the food. Yet John didn't even seem to think about that. No wonder this child was constantly in trouble. The cat eyed him, on edge. Spiteful little creature. He would just have to get rid of it.

He could see that John didn't regret agreeing to be his friend. Could read that John knew he was dangerous and, as much as he tried to stop it, he couldn't help but get giddy with excitement.

Jim couldn't wait to play with John properly. He'd break him. _Shatter_ him.

He would make the kid regret being _born_.

Johnny would be officially _his_.

Just a little while longer.

It would be _so_ fun.

* * *

 **How was it? I know it was kinda short... Sorry about that**

 **Next chapter has been written, but I think I'll wait a day or two until I post it... (probably lies... sorry...)**

 **I'm sorry I'm a terrible person.**

 **Thank you guest for reviewing! (It reminded me to update... love you!)**

 **Xoxo,**

 **~Miss Taken**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow, loooong time.**

 **I'm currently writing chapter 15... so I'll get this chapter and 11, 12, 13 and 14 out probably tonight.**

 **The song is 'Shule Aroon' and it's kinda important... But I guess you don't HAVE to listen to it... Um, I used the lyrics by Judy Collins... but it's an old Gaelic tune... If you DO look for it look for the one by Celtic Women, I think that one has the clearest audio... But it really helps the story, in my opinion...**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

John and Mr. Brook had a lovely meal. It was, dare John say it, fun. Mr. Brook would give weird looks from time to time or stare a moment too long, but John understood why Sebastian was friends with him. He also understood why Mr. Brook had come over. Hanging out with him was fun. Leo would still hiss whenever Mr. Brook got close to either him or John… But John wasn't worried. Well, that wasn't quite right. He _was_ , but… somehow, Mr. Brook took those thoughts away… John was sure that was a bad thing, but he couldn't bring himself to be too bothered.

They tried their hand at video games… only to give it up five minutes in. They decided it wasn't very fun anyway. They looked for board games, but couldn't find anything worth playing. Finally they came up with was a deck of playing cards.

"I know a magic trick…" John offered. Not a moment later, Mr. Brook had thrust the cards into his hands. John fumbled and nearly ended up playing 52-card pickup.

"Show me!"

"W-well, it's not very cool…" John shuffled the cards, hesitating and he thought about how the trick went. He learned a lot living on the streets. He was an alright pick-pocket (didn't usually get caught, but there were many times he could remember when did.) and doing sleight of hand wasn't _easy_ but he could stumble his way through it. Sherlock had helped him improve it. Much to Lestrade's dismay, the D.I. was a common target…

John was, admittedly, god awful at magic, but he was decent at one trick.

When John showed Mr. Brook his card, the older man applauded.

"I know a few if you want to see."

John nodded eagerly. He wouldn't doubt that Mr. Brook knew some magic.

John watched in amazement as Mr. Brook did trick after trick. It was flawless. When the actor had said he did a bit of everything, John thought he was merely bragging. As it turns out, he had the talent to back up his claims.

Before John knew it, he and Mr. Brook had stayed up past bedtime. John didn't mind, but he could feel his eyelids getting heavier and heavier.

"Okay… Mr. Brook, I don't think I can keep my eyes open another minute… I hate to do it, but I think bed would be a good idea." John yawned out the sentence.

"Aw, but I'm not tired!" Mr. Brook pouted.

"I _am_. I think you should sleep a little too. You're too small!" John giggled. Sleep making thinks slip that probably wouldn't normally. Though, the man in front of him wasn't _too_ short, John was used to being around Sherlock and Sebastian who were both quite tall.

"Oh, that's _not_ fair coming from you, short stuff."

"I'm trying to fix it by sleeping. At least I _would_ if I didn't have, like, a million people in my life keeping me up constantly."

"But sleep is so _boring_."

 _Not the way I do it._ John thought to himself, losing his smile. He summoned his practiced fake one in its place. "You sound just like Sherlock now!"

"In a good way or in a bad way?"

"In a 'If you don't let me sleep I'm gonna get cranky' way."

"That's rather specific."

"That's general compared to some of my other _really_ specific ones."

"Can't wait to hear them all."

"I'm sure it can wait for the night." John got up, picking Leo up on the way. Sebastian had told John to sleep in his room. Mr. Brook would sleep on the couch. No 'ifs ands or buts' he'd said. And no sleeping in the same room. John giggled. He just knew neither of them would sleep if they were hanging out in the same room.

"Oh, alright. You're no fun!"

John regained his real smiled at this, closing the door behind him. Mr. Brook was saying that they would hang out like this again. John was almost giddy. He couldn't believe the older man thought he was cool enough to hang out with. He didn't treat John like a kid or a ward… Or like he was crazy… He treated John like an equal.

John had never had that before from anyone. Not even Sherlock.

Sherlock tried, of course…but he couldn't treat John like an adult. John _wasn't_ and therefore needed different things… food, shelter from the bad people of the world, love (or, the closest thing Sherlock could offer). John understood this… But he didn't like it.

He wanted Sherlock to take him along on cases… wanted to get a drink, or grab dinner without it looking like Sherlock picked up a street rat or that he was the man's son… he wanted to be the man's friend… maybe even more…

But John was just _too young_ for that and it wasn't fair. Not at all. He'd been good. He'd been through so much and now it was his own existence that stopped him from being happy… why couldn't he have been born earlier? Or why couldn't Sherlock have been born later? If he had, he and John would have met sooner… John wouldn't be a mess… John shook his head. No. Sherlock and he were fine. He was making problems out of nothing. It was all fine.

Of course he looked up to Sherlock and Sherlock respected John… But Sherlock still protected him constantly, no matter how much he denied it. Sherlock kept him safe, happy, healthy… but John felt _obligated_ to help. Obligated to do anything and everything Sherlock said… it wasn't a friendship kind of thing… it was like being an indentured servant… and, in the end, when John got old enough or became boring… well, Sherlock would find someone else.. He didn't _need_ John like John needed him. He'd be back on the street. He knew the day that happened would be the day he went back to the bridge. If he didn't have Sherlock… well, what was the point? That's the only reason he wasn't dead right now anyway.

He was lonely. Around Sherlock it was worse because it could never be anything more.

Sebastian treated him like a kid. And that was fine too, he _was_ a kid… It was like seeing an extended family member you don't normally see like… like your favorite cousin that you tell everything to… but even though he was more chummy with Sebastian and told him silly secrets… John knew as soon as Sebastian got the order, he'd leave. Wouldn't think twice and John wouldn't have him around any more. All alone. Again.

Mr. Brook seemed to treat John like they were lifelong friends. Like they spent every single day together and knew everything about one another.

It was weird… it was refreshing. John couldn't remember the last time he felt like he was treated as an equal. Never was the closest he could think of.

He wanted to know everything about this man… and he wanted the man to know everything about him. He wanted to know what the man's childhood was like, his favorite color, what he liked to do when he had free time… Why did he lie? Who was he really?

John wanted to absorb the man… John knew it was unhealthy… but he couldn't help it. He'd never had this feeling of… of want- of _need_ for someone to like him…

He knew the man was dangerous. He knew the man lied like he breathed… but John wanted to know everything… maybe the man wanted to know everything about him too?

"Yeah, right…" John said to the empty room. He wasn't worried about the man leaving him… he was worried that the man would get bored with him. What would the dangerous man do if- _when_ that happened?

What was John hopping for? Something good?

Or… _Bad_?

Why did _that_ excite John more?

* * *

Moriarty dropped the facade as soon as the door was closed.

He was loathed to admit that he'd lost track of time. He had wanted to ask some leading questions and get more insight on who John _really_ was. But he was so _distracting_. Everything he did. His fake smiles from the real ones. His body language. His words. _Nothing_ made sense. And it made Moriarty want him all the more. He wanted to march in there and demand more of John's time. More of his knowledge… More of _John_.

Dangerous thoughts indeed. But, really, he was nothing if not dangerous.

He pulled out his phone to answer some pleas from desperate people. More of the same old same old. Big businesses, greedy higher-ups, the mafia, so _dull_. He answered the pleas as he wished, no rhyme or reason.

Small people always caught his attention though. People who had somehow found him, let alone _contact_ him. He rarely turned those down… but he hadn't gotten one of those in quite some time. Nearly a year. How boring.

However, midway through his inbox, a lone message caught his eye. It was a plea… but it was very informal. It was a smaller person, then… But who?

As Jim opened it, his eyes lit up. This looked good. Helping with a serial killer?

"Yes, _please_." He purred. The man's plea was standard 'Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me' material… He had killed someone… and then another and another… a total of four, it sounded. And was going to do it again.

However, there was something more to it. Jim checked over the words again. It was as he suspected. This person was trying to pull him into a game.

And Jim Moriarty did so _love_ games.

He responded. ' _Your proposition intrigues me. Would you be willing to meet?'_

Not a moment later that he had pushed send that he got a reply.

' _Name the time and place. I'll be there.'_

Moriarty would tell Sebastian about it when he called to give a report on John.

"Seriously. _Me_ giving _him_ a report. What is the world becoming?" He had given his word he would call if John acted weird or something bad happened and he was to call at midnight to confirm that Sebastian's current lodgings were still standing and that John wasn't dead.

It was 11:58… two minutes to kill. He got up and walked to the door which concealed John.

He could hear rustling. That didn't give him pause. The whimpering did. Jim didn't understand nightmares. He'd never had one… never had a dream. He knew that it was a superstition that waking them up was always bad… or maybe that was sleepwalkers. Jim didn't sleep enough to care.

Still, he didn't know what to to with a crying thirteen year old… Well, he did. But he knew Sebastian would not be happy to find John drugged and gagged… That sounded much more… _indecent_ when it was put that way. Jim stopped that train of thought. Now was not the time for that.

He wouldn't wake the boy. No. It would be better for John to stay asleep, but Jim would go mad if he didn't stop making noise.

He pulled out his phone as the clock struck twelve. He called Sebastian.

" _Moran."_

"Hi Sebby! Just calling to say everything is going fine. And I found us another serial killer! Isn't that fun?"

" _How's John?"_ Jim sighed. Sebastian was no fun when he was in tiger mode.

"He just went to bed. I think your game system is broken."

Jim could hear a smile from his right hand man. " _If that's all, I need to get back to work. Still two more to go. I'll be home in about three hours."_

Jim fought a brief mental battle. It wouldn't be asking for _help_ it was simply going to make his life easier.

"Hold on. One more thing. How do I get him to stop thrashing?"

" _I told you to stay out of the room while he slept."_

"I was _checking_ on him. Don't get smart with me. You don't give orders, you obey them. You've already overstepped." Jim snapped.

Sebastian sighed. " _Sorry, sir. You can sit with him and talk to him. Brush your hand through his hair… I think music helps the best, though. Sing him a song or find one online. If all else fails, and I mean_ all _else, I'll give you permission to hold him until he calms down. Don't wake him if you don't have to, he gets too little sleep as is. Now, really, I have to go."_ The line went dead.

Jim scoffed. How was he supposed to do those things? They didn't make sense. Why would singing help? Wouldn't just waking the kid be easier?

He decided to ignore how Sebastian had ordered him and given _permission_ for the boy. As if Jim needed permission.

He walked into the room, looking at the boy's prone form. He looked so _young_. He was… but when he was sleeping he looked like a grade schooler. Jim tried not to let that send a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He was here to stop John's nightmare, not cause more. That would come later.

Jim sat on the edge of the bed. John had stopped thrashing, but the whimpering continued.

"John. You're fine." Jim tried… Nothing. No response.

"John, you're being ridiculous. Stop this nonsense." Same thing. In fact, John seemed to whimper a little more.

"Don't be a brat." Jim could see talking wasn't helping. He tried to think of what his mother used to sing to his brother when _he_ got nightmares.

It was vague… but the memory was there, as if he could forget the damned song. His brother, his mother's _pride and joy_. It made Jim scoff every time. His brother was weak, useless. He had too much heart. Jim couldn't say he blamed his mother. Jim's brother had a good heart.

Jim laughed. He actually _didn't_ have a very good heart. That's why he was in the hospital right now. Poor boy. He'd be dead soon. Jim wondered if his mother would try to call him to tell him. Wondered if this damned song would be played at the funeral.

He hoped. It would be hilarious. Maybe he'd go just for that.

Such a horrible song… His mother _and_ his good for nothing brother would sing it. Jim nearly growled that now he was too. Unfortunately, it was one of the only lullabies he knew and it had been stuck in his head since his brother had been hospitalized.

John better shut up.

He decided to use the verses with John's name… maybe it would make a difference.

Jim couldn't bring himself to acknowledge who it would be different for though…

" _Shule shule, shule aroon_

 _Shule the agaragar, shule the coon_

 _Shule shule shule aroon_

 _I don't think that anyone should tie me oh_

 _Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill_

 _Weep I will and weep my fill_

 _Every tear would turn a mill_

 _Johnny is gone for a soldier_

 _Shule shule, shule aroon_

 _Shule the agaragar, shule the coon_

 _Shule shule shule aroon_

 _I don't think that anyone should tie me oh_

 _I'll send my flax sell my meal,_

 _Sell my only spinnin' wheel_

 _Buy my love a sword of steel_

 _Johnny's gone for a soldier_

 _Shule shule, shule aroon_

 _Shule the agaragar, shule the coon_

 _Shule shule shule aroon_

 _I don't think that anyone should tie me oh-"_

Jim stopped singing. He couldn't finish it. It was an inane song. He refused to sing it to the end no matter what version. It didn't matter that wasn't the one his mother had sung to his brother. It mattered that it was the same song, no matter what.

As soon as he stopped singing, John stirred again.

Jim wanted to hit something.

He climbed into the bed on the other side of John, then wrapped the small boy up in his arms. This time he couldn't suppress a shiver at how small the boy was in his arms.

"Come on John, I bare my blackened soul to you and as soon as I stop, you're right back to it." Jim blinked at his words. Had he bared his soul? Did he even have on any more? Did he ever?

Jim's thoughts were ripped away when John opened his eyes a crack.

"S'erlock?"

"No."

"You sing nice." John's words were slurred. He probably wasn't aware of what he was saying or to who.

"Thank you." Jim wanted very much for the boy to fall back to sleep. He didn't want to talk to him. Just to watch.

"I like that song. My mum found out she was an eighth Irish and she wanted to 'get to know her culture'." John laughed sleepily. Jim didn't know what to do, tell the boy to sleep? Or should he just listen? Sebastian had said family was off limits… but if the kid talked unprompted, well, it wasn't his fault.

"She would sing that to Harry and I over and _over_ … Harry hated it… but me? I loved it. My mum shortly after gave up on pretending… My father really didn't like it. She's gone now. But she would sing that to me in secret sometimes. Not that one… I think I like yours better, though…" He yawned. "I'm really sorry I woke you… I'll be quiet, I promise." John yawned again and tried to sit up, but Jim didn't let him.

"You didn't wake me. My mother used to sing that song to my brother when he had nightmares. I thought it might help. He's going to die soon, so it's been stuck in my head for ages."

"I- um … It did. I'm sorry about your brother…"

"Sometimes I am too. Time to sleep."

"I- that is- Um… are you going away?"

"I can head into the sitting room if you'd rather have me there."

"That's… that's not what I meant…"

"I cannot promise anything one way or the other. But I can say with certainty that we will see more of each other." For better or worse.

John was starting to drift off. " … I'll take it. Do you pinky promise?" The little boy help out his pinky. Jim nearly refused, but it was like any other deal… just without the contract.

"I promise."

John nodded a second before drifting off, leaving Jim Moriarty all alone with his thoughts.

Was this sentiment?

How could he feel it?

Did he feel it?

He hadn't felt if for his mother or brother… not even Sebastian. But this little kid… It wasn't pure like how he suspected normal people would feel it… It felt wrong and dirty.

He still wanted to break the kid, wanted to do things to John that would make the kid beg … but he also wanted to give John the world. Wanted the kid to be happy… As long as it was Jim who was making him happy, that is. He never wanted to let the boy go back to Sherlock. To the possibility that Sherlock would figure him out and take John away for himself. No. John was _his_.

Maybe possessiveness was a more fitting term.

Jim was confused and he hated it. John was clouding his mind. He could fix it, right here, right now.

Just stop the kid's breathing… but he wouldn't. Not yet.

Jim shrugged out of his thoughts, getting under the covers (he didn't care what Sebastian had said. He sure as hell wasn't going to sleep on the sofa). It didn't matter. The boy was his anyway.

If the feeling got too strong, he could just kill the kid.

That would solve everything.

It had to, it solved everything else, right?

* * *

How was it? I know this one was kinda short... Sorry about that.

I really like comments... If you have a moment, say hi?  
Have a nice day! I hope to have the next one out soon!  
xoxo,  
~Miss Taken


	11. Chapter 11

**Warning, Jim is a creep... and it doesn't really end there.**

 **I love John... but I really love torturing him, apparently.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

At six in the morning, John was woken up by Mr. Brook shifting on the bed next to him. John was confused, but quickly remembered he'd woken the older man up sometime during the night.

Mr. Brook got up and went about getting his cardigan off the back of the chair. "John, I have to leave. Sebastian will be home soon, but you can be by yourself for another hour, yes?"

John replied sleepily "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Want to walk with me to the door?"

John was confused, but he figured he might not see his new friend for a while, so he agreed. He got up, tucking Leo back in. Mr. Brook lead the way out of the bedroom and shut the door behind them.

"I'm sure we'll see each other quite soon." Mr. Brook leaned down, then did something horribly unexpected.

He kissed John on the lips.

John threw himself back half a step, as if being burned. His face must have gone instantly red. He could feel it flaming.

Wildly confused, throwing his hand up to cover his mouth and pulled it away like he was expecting blood, he looked at Mr. Brook. "W-wha- I-that- um-" John, for the life of him, could not understand why Mr. Brook had done that. It completely flew over his head.

"That's how you say goodbye to a good friend." The man said patiently. "I wouldn't expect you'd know, but that's what friends do." John had seen girls kiss each other on the cheek when they left each other or first met up… but, was it different for guys?

John didn't know. He'd never had a really good friend… Well, Sherlock, but even if kissing goodbye was normal, John knew Sherlock would never do that.

"W-well, I- that, Sherlock doesn't do th- that ." John didn't know how to feel. He'd never been kissed… Never kissed a girl… he'd thought about kissing people, but had never partaken, now his first kiss had been stolen. John felt like crying, but he didn't know if it was anger or simply confusion.

"No, he wouldn't. You and I are close in age."

"B-but, I thought you were older than him?"

"I am, but I'm also not your legal guardian, if he were to give you a friendly kiss or do other friend things with you, people would get the wrong idea and you could be taken away. You and I are in no such bind."

John was still confused. He'd seen some movies where really good friends who were both guys kissed each other in moments of importance… But Mr. Brook was just saying goodbye…

"W-well, w-what about Sebastian?"

"Sebastian doesn't kiss anyone . He's too cold and brutish."

John knew that wasn't true. Sebastian was one of the warmest and nicest people he knew…

"I-but, that-"

"Don't worry, I am your friend, right?"

John knew the man lied… but would he lie about something as odd as this? No. John would believe the man. He was a friend… right?

"W-well… If you're sure… W-will you teach me so I can… be a better friend to Sherlock? He's my best friend and I want to be his best friend… N-not saying you and I can't be best friends, of course!" Maybe Sherlock would treat him like an adult if John was his best friend.

Mr. Brook grinned a terribly twisted smile. "Yes. I don't think he would be able to resist you as his best friend. I'll teach you everything. Then, you can show him. How does that sound?"

John took a breath. He just wanted to be Sherlock's friend. "Ok… It sounds good. Thank you, Mr. Brook." He knew he could just say no if he didn't like it… Mr. Brook was his friend.

"Not a problem between friends, John." Mr. Brook turned to the door, pausing and turning back. "I just had a great idea."

"What?"

"We should keep your lessons a secret so we can surprise Sherlock with how good you are. Isn't it brilliant?"

John thought. He thought about Sherlock smiling and how much he would be happy John was around and how shocked he would be. John wanted to shock Sherlock. "Yes, I'll keep it secret, I promise."

"Good. I'll see you soon, dear boy." Mr. Brook leaned down and kissed John hard on the mouth. John fought hard not to pull away. A tingle ran through his lips and down his spine as he pushed back minutely. Mr. Brook pulled away, licking his lips and smiling. "See, better already. We'll practice more next time, okay?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir…" John was sure he was bright red from head to toe. Mr. Brook seemed to like it…

Mr. Brook walked out. John couldn't tell if he was happy with that.

* * *

When Sebastian was finished, he cleaned up and made his way home. It was nearly half six. The last target had gotten a tip. He had been ready for Sebastian to come. After a chase around half the city and a short firefight, Sebastian's only injury was a terrible temper.

He would normally walk around a little to cool off, but he was already concerned about John. And he was about half an hour from there, walking that much should calm him down a little, but it doesn't. He gets anxious that he hadn't heard from the Boss or John in a while. He didn't want things to end up as he'd feared. If they did, Sebastian would only have himself to blame.

The Boss wasn't one for comforting… He had honestly most likely just woken John up.

If he hadn't, John still probably tossed and turned. Sebastian knew how annoyed the Boss would be if the kid kept making noise. That'swhat he was really worried about. The Boss was… Unpleasant, to say the very least. He didn't even know what he would do if the Boss had hurt the kid... It wasn't like Sebastian could just quit or kill the Boss. He didn't know what he could do, actually. He hoped he hadn't made a horrible mistake.

He got to the door, steeled himself for the worst. He'd only heard from the Boss mere hours ago, but that was more than enough time for things to go horribly wrong.

He walked in, quiet as possible, to see John on the couch. He was first relieved to see the kid in one piece. Then he was angry. Granted, he'd already been angry so it wasn't the kid's fault, but that John hadn't slept in the bed like Sebastian had told him to do irked him. He kicked the door shut with a little force.

"What did I tell you?" It had a bite to it that Sebastian regretted it before the door fully slammed.

John shot up, arms immediately coming to cover his face. "I- I'm s-sorry!"

Sebastian sighed. "Just me, kid." His anger fizzled out. It quickly turned to exhausted exasperation. He needed sleep. But first, he needed to have a word with the Boss about making the boy sleep on the couch.

"Where is he?"

"O-oh, he left about," John looked at the clock, unconsciously rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "About an hour ago… he said he had work and that you'd be home soon. That's why I came out here to wait for you… Looks like I fell asleep, though…" John sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"That's alright. I'm about to go do that myself. Why don't you text Sherlock and ask when it's safe for you to go back? I don't mind you staying here, but I'll just be sleeping."

"I'll do that…" he picked up his phone from the floor and sent a text.

Sebastian looked at the kid. Something had definitely happened. "So, did he behave himself?" John refused to look at him. That meant something, Sebastian was just too tired to pick up on it well enough to understand.

"…Yeah, we had fun…"

There it was. That hesitation. Sebastian didn't miss it this time. "John. I'm going to ask you something, and you're going to tell me the truth because I'm far too agitated and tired for half truths and lies." John tilted his head, waiting for the question. "Did he do anything inappropriate?"

"N-no! Well, he did almost throw your game system… But I stopped him, I promise." Hesitation, again.

"Alright, kid, let me rephrase. Did he touch you?"

A pause. John was thinking of a lie. Maybe. Sebastian couldn't focus. "We high-fived when we got the game to turn on… and he put his hand on my shoulder when he said goodnight…?"

An omission of the truth is still a lie, in Sebastian's opinion.

He wanted to raise his voice. Why couldn't the kid just say yes or no? Did he not trust Sebastian? It was too early for this and Sebastian needed to sleep. "John. I can tell you're lying. There was more. I'm getting more irritated. Just tell me. I need to know if I need to never let you see him again." John's eyes shot up.

"N-no! He, that is, I… I just had another nightmare and I think I woke him up… He came in and calmed me down… He sat beside me and I just felt really bad for waking him up."

Sebastian blinked. He knew John had a nightmare… the story was believable and checked out. John didn't seem to be lying and the kid definitely was more than embarrassed about his violent dreams to cause the shame on his face.

"Okay. Thank you, John. See, the truth's not so hard. I'm going to shower and go to sleep. If Sherlock needs you to stay here a while longer, wake me up at one and we can hang out a little. If you're going back, wake me up and let me walk you back or have Sherlock come get you. I really don't want you to walk home alone."

"O-okay…"

"Good man." Sebastian patted John's shoulder as he walked by. John flinched, but not as much as he might have. Maybe the Boss was a good influence.

Sebastian snorted. Yeah right.

* * *

John watched Sebastian walk into the bathroom. His phone dinged.

Not til 6. Still w/ Lestrade. After this body, he wants a statement from me.

-SH

"Oh… Okay…" John put his phone down dejectedly. Leo woke up and stretched, still limping slightly. "Hi." The cat plopped down in his lap, falling asleep again.

John sighed. He was bored . Nothing to do. No friends… John winced at the word. John refused to think about the encounter this morning. If he did, he wouldn't be able to stop. And, frankly, his thoughts scared him.

What if Mr. Brook was lying? Just trying to embarass John or make fun of him like all the other kids? Did it really mean they were friends? Was he just using John?

…Did John care?

He knew if he was being used, he should care… but maybe if he was useful enough, Mr. Brook would still at least pretend to be a friend.

John was broken from his thoughts when he heard Sebastian call out to him.

"John, I'm going to bed. You're welcome to do anything but dangerous things. Come get me straight away if you need me."

"Okay. Good night, 'Bastian." John didn't know where the name had come from… But he liked the way it made Sebastian snort back a laugh.

"Good morning, kid." The door shut behind the tall man and John was alone with his thoughts again.

He sat. And sat… and sat… finally, a half hour in and he couldn't sit still a moment longer. He got up and cleaned the living room. Then the kitchen… then the bathroom… he looked at the clock and was dismayed to see it read only and hour had gone by. His phone buzzed… John jumped up a little. Maybe Sherlock finally wanted him around.

But… it was a number he didn't recognise.

Do you miss me? Because I sure miss you.

John was confused. It was probably Mr. Brook… but John wanted to make sure.

I'm terribly sorry, who is this?

-JW

John didn't have to wait long for a response.

Johnny! I'm insulted. You didn't forget about me already, did you? I was there just this morning!

It was Mr. Brook.

Not that I mind… but how did you get my number?

-JW

I programmed it into your phone in case you ever wanted to call me for an impromptu lesson in friendship.

Oh… John guessed that made sense.

So. How's work?

-JW

Booorrriiinnngggg. Save me from it.

John laughed.

Just tell me what to do to help.

-JW

Tell me what you're wearing?

Why?

-JW

If you tell me, I can pretend you're here.

What if I sent a picture instead? It's hard to list things over text…

-JW

Even better.

John walked into the bathroom to stand in front of the full-length mirror. He took the picture and sent it.

Tsk, tsk. Wearing the same clothes as yesterday, naughty boy?

That gave John pause. That was a weird thing to say, he was sure of it.

I just don't have any spare clothes here… I'll get changed and have a shower right when I'm permitted to go back home.

-JW

Actually, I left some clothes there if you'd like to change into those. I'm sure they'll fit you. They're going to be a bit big though. I think I put the in the closet in the hallway next to Sebastian's room.

John looked. Sure enough, there were some clothes. John wanted to be out of the ones that smelled awful as soon as humanly possible. But… he couldn't help but think about how odd it was… why would he have put his clothes in there? Were they... Were they planted? Did Mr. Brook plan this? Well, John was grateful to be out of his old clothes either way.

You're a lifesaver! I didn't think I'd have lasted the whole time…

-JW

You can repay me by taking a picture of you in those.

John paused… he wasn't sure about sending so many pictures of himself to Mr. Brook… but he had to say thank you.

The clothes were quite big. The thin, short sleeve shirt hung off John's shoulder and the pants didn't stay on very well if he didn't hold them… but it was still a step up.

He took and sent this picture. It was a lot harder to get a good picture without both hands.

Little blurry. Try using both hands again maybe?

John did, the picture came out better… but his hip was slightly exposed. He couldn't fix it no matter how hard he tried. He sent the one that was least… revealing.

Nice. They look better on you than on me. You can keep them.

Oh, no! I could never!

-JW

John wanted to stop having to thank him…

You can make it up to me sometime. I've got a few ideas. Any plans for you today?

No. Just waiting for Sherlock to text me and tell me he's coming to get me…

Suuuper bored.

-JW

Why don't you go surprise him?

I don't think that would end well. I don't want him to get mad at me…

-JW

It'll be fine, I'm sure. You do miss your detective, don't you?

Well, yeah. Terribly so...

-JW

Then go see him!

You know what, you're right. I'm going to meet him and Lestrade at the Yard. Maybe I'll even get there before them.

-JW

Sounds great! I'll be here if you need me!

Thank you.

-JW

John wanted to stop saying that.

You can make it up to me.

And he hated that even more. He didn't want to make things up… he didn't like feeling obligated to reward someone for every little thing.

He got his phone and sent a text to Lestrade.

Let me know when you're on the way back to the Yard. Don't let Sherlock know I'm texting you, I want to surprise him.

-JW

He would go surprise Sherlock! He missed him. It felt like he hadn't seen him in days and it was really unnerving being away from him that long.

His phone pinged.

We're actually on the way there now.

-L

John jumped up. He quickly got as ready as he could, which wasn't hard because he didn't really have anything with him. He pulled on the hoodie, wincing at how bad it smelled. He'd forgotten… he hoped the Yard wouldn't make him do a drug test… that would be soembarrassing.

He picked Leo up and shoved the kitten back into the pocket. Leo huffed in annoyance. He hated the jacket… and John really couldn't blame him.

He left the cat things there, he would just come back for them later today, but he did grab a ziplock baggie full of cat food so the poor kitty didn't starve.

"Oh-" John had almost forgotten. He had to let Sebastian know he was leaving… but he didn't want to venture into the sleeping man's room, and he still didn't have Sebastian's number… so he found a pen and paper to write a short note.

' Leo and I left to meet Sherlock at the Yard. I hope it's okay that I left the majority of Leo's things here. It didn't seem practical to take them with us.

I hope you had a really good rest!

Don't worry about us!

-JW '

John left it right on the couch so Sebastian could easily find it when he woke up, then he headed out the door.

He was actually relatively close to New Scotland Yard… he just had to cut through the park and walk a little ways north. He could be there in less than half an hour.

He was caution as he walked, trying to look unassuming and blend in with the crowd. For no one being around this early, he thought he was doing a brilliant job… but someone grabbed his shoulder and turn him around into the mouth of an alley. John tried hard not to sigh. It was starting early today… He braced himself for a punch he was sure was coming.

"Johnny!" It was Mr. Brook… John tried to step back a little, but the grip was unrelenting.

"O-oh, uh- hullo, Mr. Brook…" John couldn't look at his face.

"I was just on my way home, care to join me?"

John thought about it… He had left a note for Sebastian and he'd only told Lestrade about him visiting… and he wouldn't find it that strange if John changed his mind… right?

Plus, if he went with Mr. Brook, maybe he could learn more… even if it made him uncomfortable, he'd learn really well. For Sherlock.

John went to tell the man this, but that's not what came out of his mouth.

"Uh...I- I was just going to see Sherlock… He's expecting me at any moment." John looked down. Why couldn't he say what he wanted to? Did he want to say that…?

Mr. Brook had an angry look flash across his face. "Do not lie to me." He grabbed John's chin and made him look up. How would the man even know? Wait… wasn't he the one who told John to go surprise Sherlock… Was… was this a set up?

"If you don't want me to teach you how to be a good friend, I guess Sherlock will get tired of you. Sooner rather than later, I'm afraid. Then he'll just find someone to replace you. Someone who's actually interesting. Someone willing to make themselves better."

John's eyes went wide in fear. "N-no…"

"Oh, yes ." The man's nails dug into the skin of John's face, forcing him to keep eye contact.

"I- no! P-please teach me… I'm sorry! I-"

"Shh. It's okay. I forgive you. But now you need to do something to make up for it."

"O-okay." John just wanted him to stop being mad. It was scary.

"But first, let's get to my place. Text the dear Detective Inspector you're no longer going to be there."

He had his hand on John's arm, dragging him in the opposite direction of the Yard. John didn't know how Mr. Brook knew about Lestrade, but it unnerved him even more. John sent the text any ways.

Hey, something came up… Not gonna make it. I don't think Leo could handle too much excitement today. Maybe some other time?

-JW

John didn't want to text Greg that… he wanted to call for help… but he wanted to be a good friend and didn't want Sherlock to hate him… He really didn't have a choice.

He let Mr. Brook drag him for a while before a question struck John.

"I-well, I'm sorry if this seems rude… but, well, what's your real name?" The man looked down at him. Amusement and anger playing tug of war in his eyes. Amusement won and John didn't know wether to be glad or terrified.

"'Sir' will do just fine for now. It'll help you get used to things."

He was acting weird. He hadn't been like this yesterday… he'd been sweet and nice…

Today, though, today was bad… John could be okay with that… for Sherlock. Lessons were supposed to be hard, right?

And it wasn't as if John all of the sudden didn't like the man… He still did. What he was concerned about was that he didn't know what to expect and, if John was being honest with himself, it intrigued him. He always knew what to expect from everyone else in his life… even Sherlock… but with- John hesitated on what to call the man, 'the man' seemed to fit just fine- the man he didn't. Not yet anyways.

John wondered to himself if he would be able to piece him together like he could with everyone else.

John let his thoughts drift to their favorite occupant. Sherlock.

It had taken him a while with Sherlock, but now John would wager he could explain Sherlock better than anyone besides maybe Mycroft. And that was only because he'd known Sherlock longer.

Sherlock lied to himself. Over his short years John learned that most people did. Even great detectives. John didn't look down on him or pity him for it… he still viewed the man the way he always did, but it was… comforting that John could say he knew more about something than Sherlock did, even if he'd never actually 'say' it.

John missed Sherlock. He wondered if maybe Sherlock missed him.

That was the one thing John couldn't read about Sherlock… what he thought of John. John knew the man liked him well enough to keep him around. Knew Sherlock at least cared a little about keeping John safe and happy… but he didn't know what Sherlock thought about him. Didn't know what Sherlock said to people who asked about John.

Didn't know if the man ever thought about him if he wasn't in the room…

It was infuriating. All of John's free time was spent thinking about Sherlock… He couldn't help it. He'd thought about the older man so much and it twisted his thoughts… He'd learned a bit about it in one of his books… he tried to think of the word.

"Propinquity." Yes, that was it. The higher the propinquity, the more chance you had for developing feelings for someone… when living with that someone, you're propinquity is almost as high as it can get-

"Closeness in proximity." John's head shot up to look at the man. He hadn't realized he'd said that out loud… "What is going on in that funny brain of yours that you need such a big boy word?" They were in front of a door John didn't remember walking to.

"I- that is-" He tried to find words.

"It's not attractive when you stutter."

"O-oh, s-sorry…" John winced. He didn't mean to, his mouth just couldn't spit the words out as fast as his brain was going. The door was opened and John had never found a darkened room more foreboding than this. He took a small step forward, only to be stopped. "Leave that fleabag outside." John looked down at Leo, who had been hissing and trying to claw at the man the whole time.

He stepped to the side and turned, bending down. He looked the cat in the eye. "Don't worry, buddy. I'll get you when we're all done and you and I can go see Sherlock. You two still haven't met, right?" Leo looked like he desperately wanted John not to leave. John could agree, but before he could overthink too long, a hand was on his shoulder.

"In."

John walked in. He couldn't just not .

Once inside, the lights were flipped on and it wasn't as bad. It was very plain. No personal effects. No pictures. Not even a bookshelf.

John can tell the man doesn't come here often. The thin layer of dust on the table makes it clear enough. When he does come here, it's not for long.

"Shoes and jacket off. Sit on the couch."

It was an order. John followed it. Back pole straight, eyes forward.

"Do you want to wait or start the lesson now?"

John thought… the sooner they started, the sooner they could finish… The sooner he could see Sherlock.

"How many lessons do you think before I'm ready, sir?" John said it slowly so he didn't stumble and make the man mad.

"I suppose we will have to see, won't we. I don't know how fast you learn yet. I'll let you know after this one."

John nodded. "If it's alright, can w-we start now, sir?" John flinched at the mistake, but the 'Sir' seemed to nullify it and keep the man pleased.

"Yes we can. To be a better friend, you first have to know how to be a good friend in the first place." John nodded. That made sense.

"I think that we should get you used to greeting and saying goodbye before we move on. You look like you'd never been kissed when I said goodbye this morning."

John looked down. "I-I hadn't, sir."

"That would explain it. Alright. Come here." John got up and walked over to him, standing a good two feet from him. It was as close as he felt okay with.

"Closer, Johnny. How can I say goodbye if you're all the way over there?"

John refused to look up as he shuffled forward.

" Much better." he purred and put his hand on the bottom of John's chin, tilting the boy's face up.

"Now, pretend like I'm leaving and you won't see me for a few days."

John nodded. He held his breath when the man leaned down, covering John's lips with his own. He held them together for nearly ten whole seconds.

When he pulled back, he looked feral.

"Good. Now I'm going to be gone for a week." He leaned back in, his lips parted. John held his together. When the older man licked his bottom lip, John whimpered and tried to step back. The hand on the back of his head didn't let him.

"See how I'm parting my lips, Johnny? You should be doing that too." His voice was so condescending and John hated it. He wasn't a baby. He could do it.

He shoved his face forward, waiting for the tongue at his bottom lip again. When he felt it, he opened his mouth a slight bit. Just enough to let the tongue in. The man pressed harder, then let go.

"Explore. Don't make me do all the work."

John didn't know how to 'explore'... what did that mean? He waited for the man's tongue again and this time, he pressed his own against it. It didn't seem 'adventurous'… but it was something, right? The man tasted like bitter coffee and metal… maybe almost like blood… John really didn't like it.

The man pulled back again. "Good. Very good. You're a natural, Johnny-boy."

John blushed and looked down, only to have the death grip on his chin force him to look up again.

"I gave you a compliment what do you say?"

John was confused. And scared. The man looked like he wanted to hit John. If he did that, John didn't know what he'd do.

"I-um. Th-thank you, sir."

" There's a good boy." John felt like his face was going to melf from how hot it was. He wasn't a bloody dog … but he kept his mouth shut.

"You can also just push your lips together with your friends and have it be short and sweet. It depends on which friend it it. Only in passing, really. I dislike kisses like this." He demonstrated. John liked this one… he didn't hold them together and it wasn't… messy.

John nodded. He was dazed and didn't know what was going to happen next.

"Let's move to the bed. I'm just sure you won't be able to stand for the next part."

John let his arm be grabbed and let himself be dragged to the room then pushed down to the bed laying on his back. The man crawled over John, holding his arms down. "Keep them there." John blinked that he acknowledged.

"I'm going to touch you. I'm sure you read about pulse points in your books, I'll show you how they can be used."

John didn't respond. He didn't know how to. In the next second there were hands all over him. It felt like all his skin was on fire… being touched everywhere.

His neck, his sides, his stomach… lower and lower. More and more uncomfortable.

"Take your shirt off." John froze even more. He… he couldn't . He didn't want the man to see all the marks on his skin… he couldn't.

"I-I don't thi-" The man popped back up to stare John down.

"I don't care what you think. If you want to learn, pay attention and do as I say." The man sat up, making John feel like he could finally breathe. "Or, if it's too much, we can just stop. I understand, it can be just down right scary. Don't worry. Let's just stop here for the day."

John tried to protest. He did… but his body wouldn't let him. It refused to tell the man he could continue. John wondered briefly if his body knew he couldn't keep going. John hoped so. It meant he wasn't as pathetic as he could be, right?

"I'll let you make it up to me tomorrow."

John wanted to cry. He didn't want to learn anymore, but… but he couldn't just give up because it was hard… right? He couldn't… Lessons were supposed to be hard. That's why they exist... Right?

It was clear that the lesson was over though. The man got up and left the room, leaving John on the bed, looking up at nothing.

John heard the front door slam. He let out a sob.

He wanted to go home… but he didn't even know where that was anymore. Sherlock was his home… where he was, John was happy… but Sherlock wouldn't let John around him right now… he wanted Sherlock so badly. After a few minutes of catching his breath, John drew his arms down over his chest and sat up. He just needed to get Leo, then he could go back to Sebastian's house.

He grabbed his phone. When he turned it on to see the time, he realized he had a text from nearly two hours ago.

Aw, sorry. It's okay, I understand! I'm sure Leo will be all better in a few days time! See you sometime soon, yeah?

-L

It was from Lestrade. It made John cry harder. He wished he would have sent an SOS message instead of a lie… but he wasn't really in danger… right…? Even if he was it was his own fault… he just let the man do those things…

John wanted someone. He didn't care who anymore. He just wanted anyone else on the planet besides the man.

He sent a text to Sherlock.

How's the case? Anything new? Have you eaten recently?

-JW

John waited for a response. He wanted Sherlock so much. He needed his detective right now. It felt like the world was caving in. Then, finally, a text alert.

In order: Busy, yes, no

-SH

Can I come home?

-JW

Not 2nite. More bodies. Not safe home. Gtg.

-SH

Oh… that was… not good at all.

Oh, okay… Hey, when we see each other again, I need to talk to you.

-JW

John just wanted Sherlock. He was currently a hysteric mess…

Prob. tmmrw. It can wait, yes?

-SH

Yeah. It can. But I have work tomorrow, so I won't be back until late.

-JW

John had actually almost forgotten. Too many things had been happening.

See you then, John.

-SH

John let out another sob and walked outside. He picked up Leo as he went. The cat, for all the things in the world, was trying to figure out why John was crying.

"I-it's okay… I'm fine… Let's just get back to Sebastian…" The cat nuzzled John's neck, trying to comfort him. John wished it would work…

As he was walking, stumbling all around, a hand grabbed his shoulder. John hadn't noticed it until it was pulling him through a door of a building. Really, John needed to stop walking alone. It never ever ended well. At this point though, John would welcome a punch or two to the face. Maybe it would knock some sense back into him.

" Where have you been?" Ice. Pure ice… it was just Mycroft. The building is nothing more than a gutted store that had no windows. John tried not to be upset.

"Wh-what do you-"

"I mean you vanished from sight of all the CCTV close to two and a half hours ago. After you entered the park, I couldn't see you at all. So, I'll ask again. Where were you?"

John started crying again. He couldn't tell Mycroft… of all people the universe sent him… It had to be the hardest on to talk to…

"I- that is-" John couldn't get any more out, he took a lot of deep breaths… but they didn't seem to help.

"John, are you alright?" The ice had melted a little.

"Y-yeah…" John tried to think of something to say, just to get Mycroft to leave… "Leo and I just got dragged into an alley… They threatened to cut him open… A-and I just- they just-" John broke off again.

"Oh, John." Mycroft's face hardened again, but his eyes softened. He had a pet once, too. John could tell. He also at least marginally bought the lie.

"Here, I'll take you to Sher-"

"No!" Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "I-I mean, Sherlock said I'm not allowed near him or home right now… The case is very dangerous right now… I have to go back to Sebastian's house…" And John was just a mess right now… he didn't want Sherlock to see him like this.

"I don't like you going there."

"Why…?" John was starting to piece things together. Just a little…

"He and I have a past that you don't need to know about. But if that's where you want to go, I'll take you there, yes?"

"Yes please…" John really didn't want to walk all the way there with his legs being all rubbery.

"Never a problem." Mycroft lead the way out to a car. John got in without a second thought. If there was one person in all the world he could trust with important things it was Mycroft… but John knew Mycroft wouldn't know what to do about the man… other than tell Sherlock, so John stayed quiet.

They sat in silence in the back of the black car. John was fine with it and the other party didn't seem to care.

They were at Sebastian's place in less than ten minutes. The car pulled up and as John reached for the handle Mycroft spoke.

"If you need me, you have my number. Remember, I know I seem removed- and I am- but I can listen to anything you need to say. Without telling Sherlock, if necessary."

"… Thank you, Myc…" John didn't use the nickname often, but it just seemed right. Mycroft's eyes gave away the gentleness of the tight-lipped smile he gave.

John got out and watched the car pull away.

He walked up to the door and felt immediately bad for lying to Mycroft… He shouldn't have done that.

He turned the doorknob and felt bad again. He hadn't even locked Sebastian's front door… he felt like a terrible human today…He took one look around and decided no one had broken in… it made him feel marginally better.

He found the note he'd written right where he left it, and crumpled it up. Now that he was back, the note was unnecessary.

He curled in on himself on the couch and waited in silence until one.

* * *

Sherlock was thinking again. He stood over the newest victim. A brunette. Same pattern in that there was no pattern. Spent their days cheering on a local rugby team as a self-proclaimed 'biggest fan'... 'Parks' had been carved into this one. He guessed it was a new clue… but he couldn't even begin to guess the next one… There just wasn't enough to go on. What was he supposed to do ? It was infuriating!

His phone rang again . He finally picked it up. His brother had been trying to call him for close to two hours. He was fed up . Could his brother not understand? There had been more . The case wasn't getting easier. It was getting harder. He didn't have time to listen to his brother yap about arbitrary things.

But he couldn't focus when his phone kept ringing . He pressed accept.

"What?" He snapped.

"Brother. I am beyond mad at you. Why you did not answer me before is beyond me."

"Did it occur to you that I'm busy ? That I-"

His brother cut him off. "If I call you, you need to answer. I don't care how busy you are. What I have to say is almost always more important. For example-"

"I have to go-"

"If you hang up that phone I'll come over there myself and explain it to you."

"Fine. What could be so important, brother mine."

"I'm glad you finally asked. John went missing two and a half hours ago. You wouldn't answer your damned phone, so I went to look for him."

Sherlock's brain barely kept hold of the phone. "Did you find him?"

"Yes. I did. I just dropped him off at Sebastian's. You need to talk to him. When I picked him up, he was crying. He said he got pulled off the street and some people were threatening to gut the cat."

"Well, how'd he get away? He must-"

"He was lying."

"No. John doesn't lie. Ever."

"You need to sit down and find out what's wrong. He won't talk to me… I highly doubt he's going to talk to anyone else. You need to make sure he is okay. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." He would. Right after he solved this case. The moment he solved it. He Just couldn't have John around right now. He had a suspicion John was a possible target… He couldn't risk John getting hurt.

"I'll see you, brother." The line went dead.

Sherlock wished John was there now. He worried constantly.

Why hadn't John told him when he'd sent the text that something had happened?

Sherlock couldn't help but feel like John didn't trust him anymore.

* * *

At exactly one, John woke Sebastian up, then left the man to wake up fully by himself. John sat back on the couch and waited for him.

The door opened again. "So, what did you do while I slept the good part of the day away?"

"Nothing much." John lied. He hated how more words than not were lies now.

"Okay, let me change and I'll make something to eat." John nodded but didn't turn around. He wasn't ready to answer any questions Sebastian might ask.

Not five minutes later, Sebastian was back, making jokes and laughing. John laughed along and added a comment here and there… but it just felt hollow… Like everything was fake. John supposed that wasn't very far from true.

John told Sebastian that Sherlock asked if he could stay one more night, Sebastian said it was no problem at all. He'd finished all his work yesterday. John was so relieved he almost started to tear up. Almost…

Sebastian made sandwiches. Peanut butter and extra jam for John, ham and mayonnaise for himself. John picked at it… but not much else.

"Alright. You've been moping around since I got up. What's up?"

"Nothing. I think I'm just tired…"

"That's a lie."

"I… Sebastian, I miss Sherlock. Don't get me wrong… I really like being here… but I haven't ever been away from Sherlock for this long… I don't like it."

Sebastian nodded. "You'll see him tomorrow if I have to drag him. Don't worry John. It has nothing to do with you, I promise."

"If you're sure…"

"I am. Now, let's watch a movie or go to the park."

"The park?" John hadn't gone to the park just to go in a long time… He wondered if Sebastian would play with him.

"Sure, let's get our shoes."

John nodded.

They walked to the park in quiet. John didn't know what to say and Sebastian seemed to be trying to figure out why John was acting odd.

When they were finally there, John looked around. There were very few people. They had the park to themselves.

"Sebastian… Will… Will you play tag with me…?"

"I'll win, but sure." Sebastian grinned, glad that John was starting to perk up.

"No you won't!" John put Leo on the ground so the poor kitty didn't get jostled. The cat seemed very reluctant to let John go, but when he saw Sebastian, he walked away without a second thought. John made a not of it.

John stood up and turned. He walked over and tagged Sebastian. "You're it!" John sprinted away from him. He stopped to catch his breath only to realize Sebastian was standing right there.

"Wh-" He was cut off.

"You're it now, kid!" Sebastian ran towards the playset.

John ran to catch up but just couldn't . Well, until Sebastian let him, but it wasn't fair. It went back and forth and back and forth."You're too good at this. It's not fair!"

"We could play hide and seek?"

"I have a feeling you're even better at that…" Sebastian's grin confirmed it.

The totally-unfair-tag-player checked his phone. "We've been playing for quite a while. We can leave now if you want."

"What time is it?"

"Half six."

"No way, really?" John pulled out his own phone. Sure enough, it was 6:34 pm…

John went to take off his- Sherlock's- hoodie, but stopped dead in his tracks. He was wearing the man's shirt still.

He didn't have any of his own clothes except the really gross ones. He had school tomorrow!

"You wouldn't happen to have any clothes I could borrow, would you…? We have school and I can't wear this." He gestured to the mock shirt. "It smells like drugs… and-" John thought quickly. "I'm sure my shirt smells like sweat."

"Maybe a shirt? None of my pants will fit you."

"That's okay. Nothing is wrong with my pants." If it sounded snappy, Sebastian didn't comment.

"Okay. When we get back, you hop into the shower and get clean. I'll wash your drug hoodie and find you a shirt and then I'll take a shower. Then I'll make dinner."

John's stomach growled. "Um…"

Sebastian just chuckled. "Okay. Well, dinner first, then."

John regretted not eating. He felt like he needed a shower so badly… and not just from running around with Sebastian.

They got home, ate dinner quickly (well, John did.) and went to the bathroom. Sebastian showed him how to turn the water on and where the towels were.

"You can use any of my soap. I don't care. Put your clothes outside the door when you get them off. I'll leave a nightshirt right in front of the door." With that Sebastian left him to it. John was glad… he wanted to be alone.

Well… no he didn't… but he didn't want anyone around when he started to take his clothes off. He made quick work of it, refusing to look at his reflection and put the clothes outside the door.

He had his shower, put on the night clothes and walked to the couch. He passed Sebastian on the way out. "I'm going to pass out… If I'm asleep by the time you get out, I'm sorry."

"No worries, kid. Good night."

John fell asleep before he could even hear Sebastian turn on the shower.

* * *

 **I know... and I'm sorry, don't worry. The next one is worse.**

 **Xoxo,**

 **~Miss Taken**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey... this... oof. I'm just really sorry...**

 **Warning, Rape... please heed... If that triggers you, I'm very sorry, please back out now.**

 **rating is M for a reason... duh...**

* * *

John and Sebastian went to school the next morning. They didn't rush and they weren't late. Leo was to be picked up when Sherlock and John swung by the following day. Everything was perfect!

School was boring and monotonous… but John was nearly grateful for it. There had been too much excitement recently. He was ready to work and then go home and finally, finally see Sherlock. Today.

John just had to get through his shift… and that meant he just had to clean his designated classrooms. He was only given ten rooms this time, so he'd be out even sooner than normal.

When the last bell rang, John packed his things and went to say goodbye to Sebatian..

"Hey, going home for the day?" John asked, seeing Sebastian gather some papers.

"Yeah. You?"

"No, I have to work. I help clean the classrooms. The janitors love me!" They chuckled.

"Well I'll leave you too it. Say hi to Sherlock for me, yeah?"

"Will do! See you tomorrow!"

"See ya then, kid."

John walked out and headed to the cafeteria. He wasn't allowed to start cleaning until everyone was gone. He didn't want to go home and then come right back… When he got home he wanted to spend every second with Sherlock… and he was concerned that he might not be able to convince himself to come back in.

He read for about an hour. Then did some school work for another forty five minutes. Eventually all the students and most of the teachers were gone.

He got the cleaning supplies and went to his first room. It went by quick enough. When he finished he checked his phone. More out of habit than anything else.

He had a text from Sherlock.

Hurry. Ordering ur fav. See u soon.

-SH

John couldn't stop the smile that bloomed across his face. He did the next room quicker.

Another text.

I guess I can make tea 2.

-SH

John laughed out loud this time. Sherlock might actually miss him. John was ecstatic. He was even more keen on getting home now.

I've still got a while, but I'm looking forward to it!

-JW

"What has you in all smiles?" John's heart dropped as he spun around.

"I-um, Sherlock was just-"

"I'm here for our next lesson. But we should go back to my house. It would be rather embarrassing if anyone were to see how new you are to all of this."

"I- I still have eight more rooms to clean…"

"I'm sure they won't mind just this once. You can just clean them twice as good tomorrow."

John didn't want to.

"I'm going home right after this… Sherlock and I are going to hang out…"

"With him on that big case? I doubt you'll get very long." John thought about it. The man wasn't wrong … but he still wanted to see Sherlock, even for only a few minutes.

"Th-that' okay, I-"

"What if he tries to kiss you? Then what will you do? Freeze up?" The man clicked his tongue. "Not good. Not good at all."

"F-fine… just this once… but next time, I think we should set a time… I can't have you swoop in whenever you please…" John tried to joke.

"I'll do whatever I want !" John jumped back when the man raised his voice.

"O-okay…"

John followed the man out of the school and into a car. It took them very little time to get to the man's place. John wished it would've taken longer.

The second the front door was shut, the man started talking.

"The next lesson is hard to get really good at… maybe we should just wait and keep practicing the easy stuff." The way the man said it made John angry. He could take anything . He wasn't a useless kid who couldn't do anything.

With his jaw set, he looked the man in the eyes. "I'm going to learn whatever you'll teach me, sir."

The man looked delighted. " Such a good boy. I'm sure Sherlock will love it." There was a smile that John couldn't read no matter how hard he tried. Like the man was keeping a secret and wanted to tell John but keeping it was much more fun…

"The next part is easier while sitting or laying down, but you can do it while you stand." He walked over to the couch, motioning for John to follow.

"Now, in the next part we have to take turns. Do you want me to go first to show you, or do you think you can do it by yourself with me giving you instructions?"

John thought. He wanted to impress the man. And he was really good at following directions.

"I-if you walk me through it, I can do anything."

"Oh, so confidant. I love it! Just remember, you have to do everything I say." John nodded, frustrated that the man kept saying it. He knew how to listen, thank you very much.

"Get on your knees. Right in front of me." John thought it was strange, but he said he could listen, so he would. He put his knees right against the toe of the man's shoe, trying to get comfortable, but it just wasn't going to happen.

He waited and waited, but the man didn't say anything. He looked up when the man hadn't said anything in nearly a full minute.

"Oh, Johnny ." The man's voice was breathy and low. John thought he could hear an accent that wasn't the man's -which was a normal british one-… it almost sounded Irish… Come to think of it, was it a dream… or had the man sung him a song in Gaelic? John could vaguely remember… but he wasn't quite sure.

Why fake an accent? Which one was real? Were either of them?

John's mind was quickly snapped back to the present when the man started speaking again.

"Unzip them." The Irish accent was nowhere to be heard. Maybe he'd just imagined it. Then John processed the command.

He fell back onto his legs, trying to put a little space between him and the man. "Wh-why?"

The man just sighed. "I knew it. You just aren't ready to listen. If that's the case, Our lesson is over for today."

"N-no! I- I just wanted to know… to learn…" John could listen! He could obey. He was just confused. He'd already let the man drag him here… John wasn't going to let it be for nothing!

"I don't know Johnny-boy. If you don't trust me, then we should just stop. Don't worry you can make it up to me next time." No. John couldn't hear that sentence any more… He couldn't make anything up… he wanted it to stop building up… he already owed the man so many favores… John couldn't add another.

"I-I can do it." He got back onto his knees, hands hovering about the zip on the jeans. From here, John could tell the were old, but rarely worn. The man didn't wear any of the clothes he was wearing right now on a normal basis… that voice broke his thoughts again. "If you don't want to be a better friend, it's okay."

That got John to take the last leap. He unzipped and pulled them down. He looked up waiting for instruction.

" Good . Now, my pants." John hesitated, but didn't let the man think he wasn't going to do it. He would. He wanted to be a good friend and this would make him even better. The man had said so himself. He wouldn't lie, right?

When the pants were down, however. John was completely confused. All he knew about anatomy was from books and a health class he had to take online… it never went over what to do now . The man's- John tried hard to think of the word- penis , yes that was it… it was big… but John didn't have any comparison besides himself and a picture in a textbook… so he wasn't sure if that was normal.

It looked swollen… like it hurt. It made him upset. Was John supposed to fix it? If he was… how ? He hated not knowing… he was a future doctor and he didn't know how to make it better. How pathetic.

He looked up, unsure.

"Well?"

"I-I d-don't know what to do now, sir… Y-your… um- it -"

"Oh, don't be such a wimp. It's just us two friends. Call it what it is. Say my cock ." John had never heard that word before to reference a penis… it sounded dirty. He thinks he can remember some of his classmates talking about the word… he'd just thought it was something about a rooster and had been very confused.

He shook himself from his thoughts. His friend was hurt and he needed to fix it.

"O-oh… Um… y-your c-cock looks like it hurts…"

"It does , Johnny. It hurts so very badly. Make it better."

"I-I d-don't know how."

"Then ask nicely and I'll tell you."

John looked up, looked the man dead in the eyes. "Please, tell me what to do to help your cock stop hurting, sir." He refused to stumble over that sentence. He was not pathetic. He could do it.

John ghosted his fingers over it, trying to help. The man made a noise that sounded like it might be pained.

"O-oh, I'm sorry!" John didn't mean to hurt him.

"Touching it hurts. Why don't you give it a kiss?"

John remembered his mom kissing his cuts and scrapes when he got them. It always made him feel better… even if it was just a placebo…

He leaned in and gave a light kiss. It was really hot… like he had a fever. The man sighed.

"It feels better… why don't you put your mouth around it?"

John didn't know what that would do… but maybe making it wet with saliva would cool it down. There was just one problem…

"I-I don't know if I can fit it in…" The man moaned again, putting his hand into John's hear and holding his head. John took it to mean it started hurting again. He didn't want that so he leaned in. Still wildly unsure about this.

He opened his mouth and looked up. The man was watching him. The top of his cock was in John's mouth. It was salty and hot… but not together completely unpleasant...

It became unpleasant when the man pushed farther in. John could only open his mouth so much… and once his mouth was filled, there was still more …

He thought that was bad… then the man pushed farther .

It was in his throat and he couldn't breath. He tried to pull back… but he couldn't. The man's hand was on the back of his head, not letting him up. His head was thrown back, eyes closed.

"That feels so much better, Johnny-boy." John tried to convey that he couldn't breath to the man… but he didn't seem to care. John gagged. It was so uncomfortable… He tried to adjust his jaw to accommodate… but his teeth grazed the man's cock and the man snapped his head down.

"If that happens again, I'll never teach you another thing about being a good friend."

John hummed an apology… he didn't mean to keep the man from getting better.

The man started to pull out. John almost sobbed with relief. He could finally breathe again… until the man pushed right back in… and then pulled out and pushed back in…

The rhythm was fast and he was pulling John's hair so hard it felt like it was going to be ripped out.

His jaw ached badly. When John's eyes were closed, trying to blink away more tears, the man pulled out his phone. On a particularly deep thrust, a picture was taken. John didn't know and the phone was away before John opened his eyes again.

"Use your tongue to lick the underside." A breathy command, but a command nonetheless.

He did and the man shivered. John liked it when he was useful… It made being uncomfortable a little more bearable. He did it again.

John did it once more… but this time he could feel something come out… he looked up in question.

"It's called precome, it means you're close to making my cock feel allll better." That made John feel warm and fuzzy. He was doing good. He couldn't wait to show Sherlock! He would be so proud that John had learned it just for him. This wasn't even that bad!

The man kept pushing in and out of his mouth. John got creative with his tongue to see what the man liked and what made his cock feel better. Making mental notes about what he would try on Sherlock.

John moaned in concentration, trying not to let his teeth touch again. The man seemed to like the vibration it caused. John did it again.

" Johnny ." He pushed and pulled harder. "I'm about to cum. Get ready."

That was all John got. He didn't know how to get ready… and not a second after the man said it, there was hot liquid… stuff in his mouth and going down his throat. It was salty and bitter and John hated it. The man pulled out before his was finished and it got all over John's face and shirt. John stood up, wobbling slightly. But it was over, so that was good. John felt accomplished.

"Oh, such a messy boy!" The man leaned down to lick a strip up John's face. John squeaked and closed his eyes. He didn't see it, but the man took another picture of him.

"What is this stuff…?"

"It's called cum." John didn't know what it was. He couldn't remember really reading about it. Was it like semen?

"Is it… never mind…" John didn't want to look like an idiot in front of his friend by asking a stupid question.

"Spit it out."

"W-well, I was just wondering i-if cum and semen were the same…"

The man chuckled. "Yes. It is. Semen is just the proper term for it. No one really uses it when talking. 'Cum' if more informal and more frequently used."

"O-oh… okay." The cum was starting to dry a little and get sticky. "C-can I wash this off…?"

"But Johnny! It's your turn, remember?"

"I… I think I'm okay… mine doesn't hurt…" John really didn't want the man to see him… or touch him at all. John was just here to learn so he could do things to Sherlock… He didn't care if Sherlock did them back… As long as he was happy, John didn't care.

"Sorry, Johnny-boy. You have to take your turn. It's just not fair otherwise."

"I... I really don't want to."

"I guess that's fine. We'll just have to let you go to Sherlock as is. Though he might be a little disappointed… Or we could just add another lesson."

John didn't want that … And he really wished the man would stop using Sherlock to keep John going… But it worked…

"O-okay… but then I want to be done… I need to make sure I remember all the stuff you taught me today…"

"We'll see. Sit down." He pushed John to sit on the couch.

"Y-you stood, why am I sitting?"

"Because the first few times this happens, you might fall down if you try to stand for it."

He unzipped John's jeans. John couldn't help but want to push his hands off…

" Oh , just look how hard you are… how cute." John wanted to protest. He may not be as big as the man, but he was not cute in any way, but right when he opened his mouth to say something, the man took the whole thing in on motion. John tried not to scream.

It was very strange. He'd never touched himself there… not really… He'd just never had time to explore his own body…and having someone else touch- hell, put their whole mouth around- him where his mother told him not to let anyone near was… John couldn't even think of the right word… he settled on 'intense' and a close fit.

"S-sir! I- I think I'm going to pee! Please- I- stop!"

The man, mercifully, lifted his head up. "Still feel it?"

"N-not as much, no…" John tried to catch his breath now that his lungs seemed to listen again.

"Then it's normal. Don't hold back." The man lowered his head back down and sucked hard . John yelped. When his hands flew to cover his mouth, realized distantly his eyes were leaking tears… but he couldn't stop them.

Not even a second later, his hands were forced down. The man looked him in the eye and sucked particularly hard. It set John off. Out of his cock came the same stuff that came from the man's…

When his cock stopped spilling more, the man came up and pressed his lips to John's. John was too tired and confused to reject the cum the man forced into his mouth, but it did dribble down the side of his mouth.

"Can you taste yourself?" He growled.

He nodded. John was still crying, he could feel them, hot and shameful dripping down.

" Good boy ." The man purred.

John wished the man would stop that.

"We're finished in here. You can join me in the bedroom when you clean yourself up a little." The man left the room, walking to the bedroom before John could even say anything.

John didn't understand the comment until he tried to stand and found his legs wouldn't cooperate. It made the tears fall faster, blurring his vision.

He tried again. He forced himself to stand and stay upright. His legs felt like jello… he didn't even know where the bathroom was. He wandered blindly for a minute or two before finally, finally he found it. He refused to look at himself in the mirror until all the cum was off his face. Even then he found it hard to force his eyes upon himself, so he chose to look down instead.

His shirt was a lost cause. There was no way he could wear it without Sherlock noticing what he'd been up too… He threw the shirt in the bin. He'd just wear the hoodie as a shirt.

He felt dirty… wrong… He liked doing it better than having it done to him. He knew it couldn't be too bad… if all friends did this, it was normal. Maybe he was the problem… maybe it only worked between specific friends… maybe Sherlock would be better… He tried to take as long as he could in the bathroom, only managing a solid 20 minutes before there was nothing else to do. He put the hoodie back on.

John couldn't stop crying as he left the bathroom. He didn't want to go into the bedroom again… he remembered what had happened the day before… but he couldn't just leave …

He made his way in slowly.

"Ah, there you are. Finally. I was getting impatient." The man was sitting on the edge of the bed, not a shirt or jeans in sight… the only thing he had was his pants.

"S-sorry sir." John tried to stay away, but the man just ordered him to come closer.

"Come over here with me, Johnny." John shuffled his way over to stand right in front of the man.

"Good. Now. I know you don't like to take your clothes off… but Sherlock wouldn't appreciate you wearing and ruining his things, would he?"

John shook his head.

"No, I wouldn't think so. Take it off." An order… John had to. He wished he wouldn't have thrown the shirt away…He slowly peeled it from his body and over his head.

" Yes . Just look at all this skin." John couldn't look at the man and covered as much as he could by crossing his arms. "Aw, is the baby embarrassed?"

"N-no!" John forced himself to look at the man and throw his arms down. He was okay. It was okay. He could and would do this. Whatever this was. For Sherlock.

"If you insist. Jeans next, please." John was swifter in this. If he took too long with this, he just knew he'd stop again… he didn't know if he could make himself continue the next time he stopped.

"So compliant! Such a good boy for me." When John was as naked as the man, the man stood up, using the few centimeters he had on John like meters to tower over him. He took his pants of and motioned for John to do the same. John did.

"On the bed." John sat down.

"Lay down." John did.

"This next part is really hard. I don't know if you can do it. I know I said that before, but I really don't know if you can…"

"I-I can do it! I can…"

"Do you know what sex is, Johnny?"

John had read about it… and the health class had touched on it, but he only knew how it worked between a man and a woman… and even then it was just a vague idea. He knew that's how parents had children... But he didn't even know two men could have sex. Would John get pregnant? He really hoped not... Especially not with this man.

But… but he didn't want to look stupid… So he told another lie. Nothing new there…

"O-of course I do…"

"Oh wonderful! Then you know all about the next part! Here, put this on." It was a cloth… John didn't know where to put it… at all.

"Over your mouth, silly." Oh… okay… John did. He didn't tie it too tight so he could still talk.

The man sighed. "Listen, Johnny. I know you've never done this before, but you've got to be smarter than this ." The man untied the knot John had done and tied it rather tight. John couldn't say anything anymore without it sounding unintelligible.

"Alright. If you want me to stop, just say so." John didn't know how well the word would come out if this thing was blocking his speech… but he was sure the man would understand it if John did say it.

John nodded.

"Okay. Lay back, bend your knees." John did.

The man pulled out a bottle of something… he squeezed into his hand then the man was over him again, like yesterday… but today it felt worse. His hands were held above him, pinned in place with one larger hand. The hand with stuff on it was out of his sight… oh… oh . His finger was right at John's anus.

John whined, but the man didn't hear him or didn't care because he just kept pushing. Suddenly, the finger was inside of him.

John started to thrash. It was too much. John didn't want to be here anymore.

"If you don't stop, I won't prepare you. I know you lied about knowing about sex… but let me tell you, this is very important. Otherwise, it hurts. A lot. And it's going to hurt even if I do . So I suggest you stop ." The grip on John's captive hands tightened.

John tried to stop. He did, but he couldn't help it. Another finger was shoved in and John could feel more tears streaking his face. He really didn't like this.

" Fine . I guess that's good enough anyway. I did warn you." The bottle was back. The man fumbled with his one free hand and John wished he would have let go… even just a second and John could be out in no time. But, sadly, no. This time the man poured the stuff on his cock. He placed it at John's hole. John tried to say stop… but it came out a grumbled mess.

"I'm not going to lie. This is going to hurt like hell." And then he shoved it in.

John screamed. It hurt more than anything. It was the worst thing. He felt like he was full. Like he would burst… then the man moved his hips forward.

How was it not all the way in? There couldn't possibly be more… And yet it just kept going. Farther and farther… it hurt and it wasn't getting better. It was getting so much worse.

After what felt like forever, the man finally spoke.

"See. It hurts. You shouldn't have been a bad boy. It wouldn't have hurt this much. Nothing for it though. You'll get used to it." John didn't want to get used to it.

He tried to tell the man to stop, only to get a chuckle from the man. "Sorry, what was that? I can't understand you." John hated the man. He hated himself for ever thinking this was okay… he didn't care if this is what friends did… this man was no friend. It hurt because this man was a terrible person.

The man pulled his phone from the side table. "Oh, this is going to be beautiful." John heard the record button being hit. Not even a second later, the man pulled back. It hurt just as much and John screamed. He couldn't help it. He thrashed and tried to get leverage to kick the man off, but he just couldn't and he hated himself for it.

The man stopped again, pointing the camera on his stomach, then thrusting shallowly. He brought his hand up to push right where he had the camera. John was too scared to look down. He tried to tell the man to stop again, only to get the same result. A bitter laugh and another shallow thrust.

" Perfect ." The man purred. "Look at that. I wonder. What will your dear Sherlock think?" That made John stop dead. He… Sherlock wouldn't know. How could he? But… the man was taking a video of him… did that mean he was going to send it to Sherlock?

Oh… Oh no… what… what if Sherlock already knew and he and the man were friends and Sherlock just wanted- No. No. That couldn't be true.

"Oh, yes." He thrust back in a little quicker. "Sherlock will never want you now." Suddenly, John wished the man and Sherlock did know each other… then at least the detective would maybe keep John around… but… if Sherlock ever saw this video he'd never speak to John again.

"Such a filthy boy, aren't you, Johnny?" John tried to shake his head 'no' but he couldn't. The man's thrusts were getting quicker. He felt something rip inside… the movements suddenly got easier. That scared John. The camera panned down… showing where the man was moving in and out of John.

"Oh, it looks like I've ripped something… Oh well. I'm sure you love it, don't you Johnny-boy?"

John tried to say no… but at the same moment, the man hit something deep inside John… something that sent pleasurable shivers down his spine… it still hurt… but that one spot made it a little better. Prostate something inside John's head whispered.

The sparks of good were even worse than the pain. How could he like this? There was- he just… there had to be something wrong with him.

The man hit it again and John moaned loudly.

"Oh, it seems you're finally letting yourself like it. Is it good, Johnny? The way I fill you up? The way you can't stop me even if you wanted to?"

No! His mind screamed. No, he didn't like it! "S-s-st-" Trying to say 'stop' had never been so hard.

"Poor boy, so lost in pleasure you can't even talk. Such a good boy."

Stop it! Make it stop! John tried to thrash again, but he only succeeded in pushing back against the man's thrusts, so he stopped.

"Oh, no, no, no! That just won't do." The man was thrusting so hard, John could feel it in his lower stomach. He finally looked down, only to snap his head right back up. He could see the man's cock moving in his lower stomach. It made him sick.

"Why don't you press back again, boy ?"

John couldn't. He didn't want to.

The man paused and John thought maybe he was done… but no such luck. All he got was his leg thrown over the man's shoulder and more brutal thrusts.

"Fine I'll do all the work. It doesn't make a difference."

It hurts. That's all John can think of. He tried to think about Sherlock… he wants the man to come save him… but John knows he won't… he didn't even know John was here… He thought John was still at work. John felt a new spark of hate for this man. He never wanted to see him again. He didn't care if he didn't know how the man ticked. It wasn't worth all this hurt. John didn't care if he was bored all the time. He never wanted this to happen again.

After forever of hurt with sparks of pleasure here and there, the man thrusting into his body grabs John's cock. John screams again. This time it's in pleasure. He can't hide it. He hates himself.

"Ah, there we are. So good, isn't it, Johnny-boy? You've been such a good boy that you deserve a reward." The man pumped John's cock. It felt so good and John hated it.

The man thrust in time with the pumps so that John couldn't even feel the pain any more. Just pleasure. It felt like betrayal.

John didn't know what happened but he came. It went all over himself and the man… the man moaned loud and kept going. "Naughty boy. Look at the mess you've made. I didn't even give you permission to cum. So naughty." The man came hard inside of John, then pulled out. It was a sharp, raw pain. The phone went over him in slow motion.

Then the man hit the button again and walked out.

In the doorway he stopped. "The lesson is over. If you don't want Sherlock to find out about this and all the naughty, bad things you've done, you better keep quiet about it and keep coming back whenever I say." Then the man was gone.

John just layed there. It hurt to breathe let alone move. He wanted to stop existing. It hurt too much. After about ten minutes of catching his breath, he slowly brought his arms down to take the cloth off his mouth. His jaw ached and burned. John hopped it didn't leave marks. Sherlock would definitely know then… John couldn't help but cry again. He took the cloth out of his mouth, hoping it hadn't made marks.

Sherlock was going to hate him.

When John stood up, he immediately fell to the ground. He couldn't stand. It hurt so much. He forced himself to though. He could feel things trickling out of him. He reached a hand down to confirm… there was blood. A lot of it. Blood and the man's cum… John wanted to die.

He walked slowly to the front of the house, getting his shoes on, then his stand in shirt.

The face that it smelled like Sherlock's cologne really helped right now. He really missed the man. He wanted to see him now more than ever… And… and yet, if he had the chance, he would never let the man see him like this… Not ever.

He didn't know where to go… Sherlock was at the flat… John couldn't face him right now. He knew he couldn't walk all the way there anyway… he made his way to Sebastian's house. Leo was there anyways. Halfway there he sent a text to Sherlock.

Going to Sebastian's.

-JW

* * *

Sherlock got the text. Right after it, he left the flat. He'd been waiting for John to text to say he was on the way. Sherlock had ordered from John's favorite place and he'd even made tea . Something was wrong. Sherlock couldn't stand it. Something was going on and he was going to find out what. He hated John not talking to him. After this case, Sherlock wouldn't let John out of his sight until he was sure John was alright. He grabbed his coat and walked out the door. John needed him. Or… maybe he needed John… It didn't really matter. He was going and that's what mattered.

* * *

John got in the front door after nearly an half an hour of struggling and limping along the side of the road. He was glad it was very late… there was no one around to see him.

It quickly became clear that Sebastian wasn't back yet… John needed a shower now more than ever in his life and the mercy that Sebastian wasn't there was just too good to pass up.

The moment the hot water touched John's back, he let out a moan… Then slapped a hand over his mouth. He never wanted to make a sound like that again… He was thinking about how to cancel the lessons with the man… if John needed to know the things he was being taught, he'd learn them on his own. He couldn't look at the man anymore, let alone try to be his friend still.

Yeah. Then he wouldn't have to worry whether it was right or not. But… But what if the man sent the video of him? What if… what if Sherlock saw him like that?

He cleaned himself meticulously, not missing a single hair on his body. There was blood all over and John made sure not to miss a single speck.

John finished his shower and got out. There was a shirt sitting in front of the door. It was very large on him, but he didn't mind. It was actually very comfortable. He put on his pants and jeans then walked out. Sebastian was home. John wanted to call out… but he didn't feel like using his voice. So he just looked, still limping. Sebastian was in the kitchen making dinner.

When he turned he smiled brightly. "Hiay, kid. How was work?" When he actually saw John his smile dropped. "Hey, you look awful. Are you alright? Did something happen?"

John shook his head. "Just a bad day at work…" Sebastian looked suspicious, but didn't push it. He set down a plate in front of John. It hurt so badly to sit, but John made himself. He refused to let anyone know.

He wasn't hungry. Not even a little, but he forced himself to take bites. Then he just couldn't any more. He excused himself. Sebastian looked like he was going to say something, but John didn't let him. He went and sat on the couch.

"Hey, are you sure you don't wanna talk? I won't judge… And I can help. What's up, kid?" John just shook his head. "Oookay? Well… I'm going to hop in the shower… um, do you need anything?"

Again, John just shook his head. He laid his head down as he heard Sebastian walk away.

John could hear the water turn on.

John sat down on the couch and thought about the man who had… who- John couldn't even bring himself to say it. He wanted to stop what had happened earlier but he couldn't… the man said he'd stop… Would the man lie about that…? Friends didn't lie to each other, did they? Was the man just lying?

John thought about how many people he'd lied to in the past few days… Maybe friends did lie. Should they? What about if it was for a good reason? Was that a good reason?

John wanted Sherlock not to find out… He wanted Sherlock to be proud… But what if he was just mad? What if Sherlock hated him?

If the man was right and only friends did this, maybe Sherlock would be mad John didn't do it with him first…

Maybe the man wasn't even really his friend? John didn't know if he'd rather it be the truth or a lie…

Maybe- the water turned off. John was back in Sebastian's sitting room, staring blankly ahead.

When the bathroom door opened, John had realized he had been questioning himself and everything for nearly an hour.

Maybe Sebastian would know… maybe help him figure something out. He wouldn't tell him… he would just ask about other things that might help him understand… that wasn't telling so the man couldn't use it against him and show Sherlock the video… right?

"S-Sebastian…?" If John stayed facing away from him, maybe it'd make the questions easier.

John heard Sebastian's steps pause, not coming closer, but obviously paying attention to John's words. "Yeah, kid?"

"Y-you and I are friends… right? You wouldn't lie to me about something important… right?"

Sebastian sighed. "I knew there was something else."

He turned around and walked closer to where John was still sitting on the couch. He had his shirt in his hands.

John immediately averted his eyes from the man. It was only polite. "O-oh- I- Um, sorry! I didn't mean to distract you from getting dressed…"

"Look at me."

John looked at the space somewhere near his head, almost at his face.

"No. My chest."

John did so slowly. Covering the very well defined torso was… awful.

"What do you see?

What he saw were scores of scars. Old ones, new ones… small, big, there were so many . John had some on his body too… but nothing as… heartbreaking as this.

"O-oh my gosh."

"Pretty wicked… I know. I remember every single one and how much they hurt. When I used to see them, I would hate what life had dealt me… but I see that I've grown. After every new one, I can see that I'm not the same person I was just before it." Sebastian was grim. "Tell me, what do you see?"

"I… I see you . Y-you're so nice and kind… and you don't deserve any of these… not a single one. You- I-" John could feel himself tearing up. "W-why are you showing me…?" John would never dream of showing his… They were just reminders of times he couldn't protect himself or… when he deserved it… or the worst ones… the ones he'd done himself.

"John. You asked if we were friends. This is my answer. No one has seen any of these since they were put on me. No one living, that is… I'm showing you because I know you care. And even so, it won't change how you see me. You aren't going to suddenly treat me like I'm made of glass.

"You know me, you know what I'm like and yet, you still stay over and we talk and generally have a pretty good time." Sebastian put his shirt on and picked John up off the couch, just to set him in the bigger man's lap so they were facing each other. John's leg on either side of Sebastian's hips. John went rigid and tried not to scream from the pain and terror. No! Not again, please-

He relaxed when he saw determination in Sebastian's eyes and not what he's seen in the other man's earlier today. He realized Sebastian wasn't going to do what the other man did… at least not right now. Maybe John would be okay with is if Sebastian asked him to do it… Would it still hurt as bad? John didn't hate the first thing he'd done… but would Sebastian like it too? Would- Sebastian started talking again and John forced himself to listen.

"I'm showing you because I trust you. And I'd say you are my only friend."

"W-what about the man you said was named Jim… Isn't he your friend?"

"Friend is a strong word. I tolerate his more than others… but I would never show him this. Not because he would care, but because he wouldn't. He would honestly not care a single lick. I could have hundreds and he'd still not show a single sign of compassion. And that's not a bad thing, but friendship is all about compassion… I guess Sherlock wouldn't really know about it much enough to help you out, would he?"

John chuckled, leaning his head onto Sebastian's shoulder. "Not in the slightest." John paused… he didn't want to ask, but he needed an answer. "Wh-what about that man who came over…? Is he your friend…?" John hoped that the answer was no… He didn't think Sebastian would be friends with that man if he know what had been done to John… or maybe John deserved it… John did owe a lot of favors… Maybe that was one of them? He hoped not… he couldn't do that ever again, let alone to make up all his favors...

"I trust him with somethings… but not as much as you should trust a friend."

Sebastian put his arms around John and gave him an awkwardish hug. John hadn't been hugged in… Ages, really. Mrs. Hudson didn't dare try… not after the first time he'd started screaming for Sherlock. Sherlock would never… who else did he have? The man that taught him possibly made up things? That… hurt him so badly? John was afraid of what would happen if he initiated physical contact with the man. What the man might want in return.

"It's okay." Sebastian shushed him, patting his back and stroking his hair. John realized he was crying.

John tried to lean up. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

"Never be sorry if you need a hug. John," Sebastian pulled John up so he could look into his eyes. "I'm here for you, just like you are for me. That is friendship. I'm not the best at words and I've never helped… well anyone , but we're friends and we can get through it. Yeah?"

John let out a sob, throwing his arms around Sebastian's neck. He didn't know how long he cried for, only that he cried out his anger and his fear. His sorrow, his pain… and Sebastian just let him. Just kept his strong arms around John for as long as he needed.

When John's tears slowed, Sebastian spoke again. "I know you don't believe it, but, Sherlock is there for you too. If you tell him that something is wrong, I know he'll do everything to make it right. He's your friend too, John, if not even more than me."

It made John want to cry again… and he did. He wanted to tell Sebastian everything … and he knew Sebastian would let him, he just knew it.

Sebastian was the best person, really.

When John was finally done, he pulled back. He wanted to thank Sebastian. Show him how much of a friend he really was. He knew the man said he should wait, but John wanted to show him now . He didn't even care if Sebastian wanted to stick his cock down John's throat. He just wanted him to know . Would Sebastian hurt him too? Or… or would John like it this time? He gathered up all the rest of his courage and took a breath.

John leaned in close and kissed Sebastian on the lips, just like he'd been shown.

* * *

 **Yeeaaahhh... So, uh, next chapter is done and I'm on a posting spree right now, so you don't have to wait forever long...**

 **But yeah...**

 **Lemme know your thoughts.**

 **Xoxo,**

 **~Miss Taken**


	13. Chapter 13

**The formatting on this website hates me... I'm sorry if anything is confusing because of that...**

 **or for any other reason it might be confusing.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Kinda short... sorry**

* * *

Three things happened simultaneously. Sebastian stood, pushed John onto the couch, and was across the room in less than a second. The third was Sebastian looking like he wanted to kill someone. John could tell it wasn't aimed at him, but it was still horrifying.

"Get your phone. Call Sherlock." A command… He shakily fumbled to get his phone. But he couldn't get his hands to stop shaking enough to even put in his password.

Sebastian sighed angrily. "Give it here."

John was frozen. Sebastian was so much scarier than the man. He couldn't- Sebastian wouldn't hurt him… right? What would John do if he did? John shuddered when he realized there was nothing he could do against Sebastian.

John didn't know how Sebastian knew his password. Frankly, he didn't care. Sebastian put the phone to his ear, then, mercifully pulled it down and put it on speaker.

" John. Are you okay ?" It was rushed and slightly breathless. John could hear cars rushing by. Why was he outside?

Oh, John thought. He probably is back out on the case.

It hurt. It hurt that Sherlock would have broke his promise… he wouldn't have even been at the flat if John had gone back… and it hurt because that man was right. Because… if he was right about that… was he right about everything else? John couldn't breath. He gasped for breath.

"It Sebastian. He's fine, but you need to be here. I don't care where you are or what you're doing. Here. Now ." Sherlock must had heard the anger or something in Sebastian's voice because John heard the detective say.

" I'll be there soon. " And it scared John. He didn't want Sherlock to come here. The man told John… If anyone found out… John couldn't. The walls were caving in. He stood up. He couldn't be here anymore. He couldn't breath. He couldn't do anything but panic.

"Sit down. " Sebastian snapped at him.

It was an order… But John couldn't… he was going to die if he stayed there. He tried to take a step forward… But Sebastian put a hand on his shoulder, and, surprisingly gentle, shoved John back to the couch.

" Who are you talking to. Is it John? John, I'm on my way. I'll be there in less than a minute. " If it had been anyone other than Sherlock, it would have sounded like panic. Why would Sherlock panic? He wouldn't, of course… Sherlock didn't panic.

John was scared. If Sherlock was already that close, he might have been on his way already.

What if he really did know what the man had done?

What if he wanted the same thing? John would do it… no questions… but he didn't want to… he wanted to at least wait until it stopped hurting… down there.

What if Sebastian was calling Sherlock so they could both do… things to John? John couldn't stay anymore, he knew he wouldn't stop them… even if he wanted to he wouldn't be able to. He just wanted to be able to say no… why was it so hard?

He waited until Sebastian turned his back for a moment and got up and sprinted as well as he could and made it all the way to the door.

He yanked it open and went to keep running, only to knock right into Sherlock. Sherlock stumbled. John wanted to help him, but refused to stop. He went to dodge past the detective, only to be grabbed by the back of his borrowed shirt.

" No ! Let go!" John tried to throw his body out of Sebastian's grip.

This is why baggy clothes are bad for the chase. He thought feebly. Sherlock had taught him that very early on.

"John. What is your problem ?" Sherlock looked like he didn't understand… and John knew that made sense… Why would he?

That was it. It was Just John acting like a spoiled brat. John knew he was just over reacting. It was his fault.

"No. It's not." Sebastian said to John. Could he hear John's thoughts now? Or did he say it out loud? Why wasn't anything making sense? John wanted to scream again.

Sebastian turned to Sherlock, "You need to stop. Speak in a gentle voice and get in here already. We're all going to have a nice chat." His anger still hadn't left his voice but it sounded subdued. He dragged John back in and Sherlock followed.

He set John on the couch.

"Sit. No one is going to touch you as long as you don't try to leave. You get this seat." Then he pulled a chair from the kitchen.

"Sherlock sit next to John. Not close. As far as you can." He then sat himself down and put his face in his hands.

"First off, John, please calm down. I know it's a lot to ask, but no one is going to hurt you. Sherlock and I won't let that happen."

John could barely hold back his anger. "Yes you would! It already did ! I want to go home." But… that wasn't exactly right. He wanted to be 'home' but… but if he went to his and Sherlock's flat he wouldn't view it as home right now. He didn't know what he meant. I just want to feel safe…

"No. We're going to talk. I need to know."

"John, as much as I want to accompany you home right now, I'm afraid this sounds serious. Sebastian is right. What's wrong?" This… this was fantastic. Sherlock didn't know! John could laugh with joy. The man couldn't do anything if Sherlock didn't know!

"Why are you smiling? This is no time for that." Sherlock snapped. John immediately made the smile disappear.

" John. What is going on?" John shook his head. "Answer me." Sherlock was facing him, but John refused to look at him. If he did, he might accidentally give something away.

"No." John would not let them know. He didn't care what they did. He wouldn't tell.

"John, I already know what's wrong. I'll tell Sherlock if you don't. I think it'd be better coming from you though. I know it's hard, and it's not fair, but this conversation has to take place. You have to tell him. It's important."

"No!" John still wouldn't look at either of them. Sebastian had to be bluffing, right? There was no way he knew…

"John, don't make me start figuring it out myself." Sherlock threatened. John was about to stand up to run again, but Sebastian saw the move right before he did it.

"I don't want to have to restrain you, but I do have handcuffs. I'll do it, John. You know I will." That thuarted his plan of escape. He never wanted to let his hands be restrained again. He never wanted to feel that helpless again. His hands above him that man over him holding him shoving his- John shook his head. "No."

"Tell us." Sherlock was facing John still.

"No."

Sherlock turned his body forward. "Sebastian?"

"No! D-don't! You- can't. I-I can't! Why don't you understand ? I can't !" John threw his hands up to his temples, trying to keep the world out… or, maybe, keep himself in.

Why couldn't they get it through their skulls? Why would he willingly keep secrets? Though… he had told a lot of lies recently… But he couldn't help it. They were important to keep from everyone.

"John, you can tell me."

" No , no! I'm not allowed. Stop it!"

"I warned you."

"I'll leave you two alone. When you've told him, or he's figured out, call me back in. We're talking about this. I know it's hard, John, but he needs to know and we need to fix it. This isn't going to happen again." Sebastian made it sound so easy .

Sherlock had turned back to face John. John tried to move his face so Sherlock couldn't see. But to no avail, Sherlock didn't need to see John's face to know he was right. "The first thing is you have what looks to be a slight skin abrasion around your mouth. A cloth tied around with you trying to desperately move it, however, no burns around your wrist, so no ropes… but there are bruises. Vague handprints, it looks like you were-"

"Stop it."

"-Held down, then?" John was starting to panic again. Sherlock was right… of course he was. He couldn't guess though… he wasn't allowed to know!

"My first thought is kidnapped-" John almost gasped in relief. Almost. It wasn't wrong, but it wasn't right. "-But you would simply tell me about that… No, something else, something more." Sherlock steepled his hands. "You're uncomfortable, suggesting it was something personal. Keeping it from me points even more to that."

"Sherlock, please. I- I can't. Please , stop talking." John knew Sherlock didn't need to say it out loud. He was being cruel and trying to get John to spill his guts. Sherlock wanted John to tell and was trying to force him. John was tired of not being allowed to say no.

"-Puffy eyes. You've been crying. More than you would if it were one of the usual things that upset you. So something you haven't been affected by before."

"Sherlock. This is your last chance. You don't want to know." John knew he sounded small… but he was exhausted and everything hurt.

"You're wearing a shirt that's not your own… Much too large. Sebastian's, most likely. You've also recently had a shower, your skin is red and nearly bleeding in places you scrubbed especially hard. You stopped texting me right after you were finishing your second room… so something happened between then and the next time you sent the last text to me… you also walked here. Shorter distance than from here to the school, but your shoes are all scuffed. Drugged? Maybe, but you're cohearent now, no lingering side effects, so that's not it. Limping? More likely. That much was confirmed when you tried to run past me, you held yourself awkwardly. So, limping. Limping why? If my observations are correct, and they are, I'd say-"

"Stop! Just… stop." John didn't want him to say anymore. Sherlock had mercifully stopped his deductions for once.

He was right there at the answer. John couldn't let him stumble over the answer. He didn't want to hear Sherlock say it. He didn't think he could handle it…

"I- well, I can't tell you…" John thought about using morse code… it might take him a try or two to get it out though.

The detective seemed to read his mind. "Tap it." Maybe John had said it aloud…

"Sh-sherlock I can't. I'm trying but I can't say it." If he was going to tell Sherlock, he could say it. He would. Here he goes!

Nothing. No words came out… He couldn't do it.

"I already know what you're trying to say."

John looked down. If Sherlock knew, he didn't have to say it. He shouldn't have to

"Tell me, John."

"Tell you what , Sherlock?"

"Tell me what happened."

"I- Sherlock, do you promise you don't hate me?"

"Never, John." Sherlock's eyes shone with truth… but if that was true, then he didn't know… he would never forgive John. John knew he wouldn't forgive himself. "No lies."

John nodded, trying not to mourn the loss of his friend. There was no way Sherlock would want to look at him ever again, let alone be his friend. "No lies."

John took a deep breath. "…He said his name was Richard Brook… but that's a fake name, anyway, we… well, we had fun… he lied about a lot… in fact, I think most of what he said couldn't be trusted… I- I'm sorry, Sherlock I…" John took another breath to compose himself, but he just couldn't. That's all he could say and even that took a lot out of him. He'd never be able to finish telling what had happened.

The detective seemed to draw his own conclusions. Sherlock's eyes widened a fraction, but he didn't say anything. He still couldn't look at Sherlock's face for any extended period of time. The couch between them seemed to be the best he could manage.

"I-I… I can't , Sherlock. I just can't." John was starting to hyperventilate.

"John. It's okay. You can stop."

"B-but… You wanted the truth. No lies. The omission of truth is still a lie. You say that all the time." John was trying to force himself to say it, but his brain refused to form the words.

"John… This is an exception. You can stop." He looked like his brain was working overtime. John knew he didn't have to say anything else, but he wanted- needed to tell Sherlock. If Sherlock knew what John had done, he may as well know how terrible and disgusting John was now rather than later.

"I… I wanted it to be you…"

Sherlock shut his mouth. Under any other circumstances John would laugh at the fact that he had just shut the great Sherlock Holmes up with nothing but one sentence. John wouldn't really continue if Sherlock told him to stop… just because John wasn't given a chance to say no didn't mean it was suddenly okay for him to take that right away from others.

The apologies were like vomit. He couldn't stop the words and he couldn't make them appear. It was like a purgatory that was closer to hell

But, to John's surprise, Sherlock waited for him to continue.

"… I'm… Sherlock I'm so sorry… I- I-" John broke off. There wasn't anything else he could say anyway. Nothing but to wait for Sherlock to storm out and never talk to him again. Back to the streets… back to the bridge…

"John, I'm not disappointed. I'm not angry with you, and I most certainly do not hate you. You and I will find him. Together, and we'll take him out."

John sniffled. He was too tired to cry more. Everything hurt and he felt so tired. Of everything.

He leaned forward and hugged Sherlock. Sherlock stiffened and didn't move his arms. John didn't care. He needed a hug. He… he knew that kissing Sherlock would be bad… But he still wanted to. If nothing else, to show Sherlock John was grateful for letting him stay silent…

He didn't, and he wasn't going to. He knew it was bad… He shouldn't kiss anyone. Never again. Sebastian's reaction had told him as much. He wouldn't kiss anyone ever again… if he did… he didn't know what would happen.

Sebastian walked back in and took a seat. Sherlock stood up and calmly walked over to him. Then, suddenly, the chair and Sebastian were on the floor. Sherlock had punched him. Hard.

"Sherlock!" John went to jump up, only to crumple to the floor. It was getting to the point where it hurt to move too much to one side, let alone jump up like that.

"Do you see that?" Sherlock pointed at John's prone form on the ground. "That is your fault!"

Sebastian stood up, rubbing his jaw. "I deserved that."

"You're damn right you did." Sherlock hit him again. Sebastian let him, but he didn't go down again.

"And that." He groaned.

Once more for good measure. "Okay, now you're just being rude."

"You're cracking wise at a time like this ? I do not have words clean enough for present company to threaten you with right now." Sherlock was seething.

"I have a twisted sense of humor. Please, sit." Sherlock reluctantly did so after helping John back up.

"John, I'm sorry. I know it means nothing now, but I am." Sebastian was. John could see it. There in his eyes were unshed tears. Not even noticeable to anyone not looking for the truth.

John just weakly nodded. He didn't blame Sebastian. It hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Okay. I'm going to say things. You are going to agree to them." He said, looking Sherlock in the eye. "You need to be around more. I don't feel like he'll be safe here. Especially with me not around," He looked down briefly and to the left. "Which, soon, may be all the time." Then he looked at John.

" You need to stick by Sherlock. I don't think you should be alone at all. Nothing is your fault." John started to pull in on himself. If Sebastian knew, then that man would make sure Sherlock saw the video. John wanted to die. "Hey, look at me John." John tried. He really did, but the world was blurred from tears. "You didn't say anything incriminating to either of us, right? He can't make good on the threats, whatever they may be." John wanted to believe him. He really did.

"So, to recap," He pointed at Sherlock. "Right now, you need him, and you ," he moved his gaze over to John. "Need him right now. And me? Right now, I need a fuckin' drink. Good talk. Let yourselves out."

With that, he got up and walked into the kitchen. Then John and Sherlock were alone in the living room. Sherlock looked down.

John still hadn't looked up.

Sherlock nudged his shoulder and John couldn't help the instinctual flinch.

Sherlock retracted his hand. "Let's go home, John."

Sherlock stood up, waiting to help John do the same. John got up and walked away, towards the kitchen without a word.

He found Sebastian with his forehead against the fridge. "What do you want?" He sounded defeated. He didn't even turn around.

John walked up and hugged him, only for a moment. The next John was at the front door with Leo, pulling on the jacket he stole from Sherlock waiting for said man to follow. Sebastian grabbed Sherlock's arm as he walked past, speaking low so John couldn't hear. "Please, don't come back. For John's safety."

Sherlock ripped his arm from the grasp and nodded. "You needn't worry about that."

The door shut and John fought every step of the way home not to grab Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock asked questions or... tried to talk to him, but John gave vague and absent answers. He couldn't even remember what they had said.

When they got home, John awkwardly walked up the stairs, refusing Sherlock's help. John knew if he let the detective help, he would never get better, never be able to move past this. He had to do this. He wasn't fragile. He could do it. He could and he would. It just sucked.

When they got to the living room, John looked at the stairs to his room, dreading going up more, but Sherlock stopped him before he could take another step in.

"You can sleep in my room."

"But you-"

"I'm on a case. I won't be sleeping. Mine is closer and more convenient."

John nodded. He walked into Sherlock's room, feeling for all the world like he didn't belong there.

He wouldn't make it a habit of sleeping in Sherlock's room, but he had to admit, the bed felt like the softest thing in the world and it smelled like Sherlock. He sat in the middle and laid down only to immediately sit up. He couldn't lay on his back. He'd almost screamed because he forgot he was home and not on his back at the man's house.

He needed time to think about things and piece them together so they made sense. He could do that tomorrow, though.

John tried his side and, while the bed was comfortable, he felt like he'd never sleep peacefully. But it was better than nothing.

John fell asleep, his last thought being of school and how much he really didn't want to go in the morning.

* * *

Sherlock was stunned. His John didn't deserve this. He had expected… well anything but this. But, the evidence didn't lie. John wasn't lying. He wished he could force John to tell him the truth so he could find the bastard that did this... but even he knew that would break the child. Richard Brook was all he had to go on. He'd give the name to Mycroft to see if he could find anything more than Sherlock himself could find.

Sherlock didn't know what else he could do honestly. He dealt with criminals and corpses, not victims and certainly not ones of sexual assault. There was nothing he could do for John right now and it was infuriating.

Why would John wish it were him? Did he understand what he was saying?

No, he couldn't possibly. If he did, he wouldn't have said it. He was still so innocent, despite what happened. John wasn't mad at the sketchy man. How did he even find out what happened to John? He couldn't have guessed. John must have told him.

"How did Sebastian know?"

"I kissed him." John said trying to let himself be swallowed into the depths of the jacket. Sherlock wished he would have punched Sebastian a few more times. They walked out the door before Sherlock could rethink letting him off easy.

" What ? Why?"

"I… I can't say it… I'm sorry."

"When we catch the person that did this, you're going to tell me everything."

John didn't say anything.

To say Sherlock was livid would be an understatement.

Sebastian would be lucky if Mycroft didn't have him shipped back to the front lines in an hour.

He resisted the urge to pick John up and carry him, if only to reassure himself John was still there.

When they got back to the flat, Sherlock tired to offer help only to get a snappy reply of "I'm not useless." Sherlock didn't offer anymore help, realizing John couldn't have anyone touch him. He'd break.

When they got to the sitting room, he saw John's eye twitch when he looked at the second flight. He'd offered his own room. John didn't fight as much as he would normally.

Sherlock took a seat on the couch just starring toward his room, thinking about the most remarkable boy he'd ever met tossing and turning right behind the door. Broken. Sherlock wondered if he could help John get better or if it was a lost cause. Even if it were, he wouldn't give up.

It was definitely a night Sherlock would stay up even if he didn't have a case. John would need comfort tonight and Sherlock couldn't just waltz in there and scoop the boy up in his arms anymore.

John would break.

Not even an hour later, Sherlock heard John start to whimper. And... talk?

He couldn't help his curiosity. He got up and moved closer to the door. John wasn't talking. He was begging.

"'m s'rry. Don't 'ell S'erlock. Please. 'm a good boy." Over and over.

Sherlock wanted to pick John up. Wanted to hold him. The thought scared him. Sure, he'd done it before, but he'd never felt anything. It was just 'comfort John so you can get back to work' somewhere it might have morphed into actually caring about the boy... but this was different. Sherlock's chest ached when he even thought about John crying over what happened.

Sherlock knew he couldn't call out to John tonight. John would wake up and would be inconsolable. Instead, he walked back out into the sitting room and grabbed his violin. He played a soft and gentle melody. One of the first he'd learned. John seemed to like it, even if it was dreadfully boring.

John quieted down a few minutes in, but Sherlock kept playing. And then another and one more after that. When he had finished his mini concert, he couldn't hear John anymore. He went and checked to make sure John was okay. When he opened the door, he saw John, sitting up in the bed.

"Sorry, I should have knocked." Sherlock turned to leave.

"Sherlock?" John whispered. "Am... am I a bad person?"

"No John, not ever."

"Not even after-"

"Nothing could make you bad, John. You are a good man." much better than I . He thought.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock."

"You never have to be sorry to me."

John looked like a wilted flower. So... small Sherlock hated it. John had been doing so much better. He wanted to snap at John. Tell him to straighten up.

But John would break, so he didn't.

"Any requests?"

"Um... can you play that one... it's in B minor... by Riding or something...?" Sherlock nodded.

That was not really close to what it was called, but Sherlock knew which one because John asked him to play it when he was in an especially put out mood. He hadn't had to play it in a while, though. It was easy and boring... but he couldn't help but think of John when playing it now, it was slowly becoming one of Sherlock's favorites as well.

His poor John. So breakable. He had to protect John at all costs. John wasn't going to school tomorrow. Or any day after that.

If tonight showed Sherlock anything it was that John was not going to leave his sight for a very long time. If ever again.

He played on, repeating when it was over.

* * *

As soon as the door was shut, Sebastian pulled out his phone. It felt small and delicate in his hand. It was a surprise it didn't snap from how hard he pressed the buttons.

The line was picked up on the second ring.

" Sebastian, how wonderful to hear from you. " Sebastian could hear the tiered lilt to the Boss's voice. It wasn't very late… maybe it wasn't tiredness. No… He sounded…. No, he couldn't. If Sebastian didn't know exactly who he called, he'd say the voice sounded remorseful… but, that wasn't right either. The boss sounded frustrated. Why?

"Where are you. I need to have a word with you."

" I thought that's what we were doing. I'm afraid I have to- " Trying to hang up…? That wasn't the Boss at all. He talked constantly.

"Shut up. I need to see your face. I'm so angry and I'd really like to not break another phone. Tell me where you are. Now ."

" Oh, I get so tingly when you take control like that. " Half hearted. Now he really needed to be face to face with his employer. Maybe he was just hearing things.

" I'm at the prison again. Just laying low. I'm not leaving again today, so if you need to, you'll have to come here. " Not even a riddle. Sebastian would go, alright. He was nearly out the door before the Boss finished the sentence.

"I'm on my way now."

" Take your time. I'm sure I have an idea about what this might be about. " The boss hung up. Sebastian couldn't help wondering if the Boss was okay. Even if he did want to rip his head off.

Sebastian sighed. He'd see soon enough.

* * *

Jim dropped the phone in his lap and threw himself back in the chair. What was happening to him? He didn't even understand. It was infuriating. 'Why' wasn't even half as important as 'what' or, bloody hell, even ' how '. He needed a second opinion… but he didn't have those kind of contacts… Even if Sebastian wasn't coming to kill him, he'd never ask him for help.

He had only one option. He brought the phone up to his face pushing random buttons until they did what he wanted.

The call rang out. He growled and called again. It was only on the fifth ring of the third call that the line was open. Jim was pissed that he'd been ignored so long.

" Jimmy, darling. This better be very good. I'm in the middle of a session. " Jim could hear muffled cries and snaps of what was most likely a whip.

"Irene. I seem to be in a spot of… romantic trouble. I'll call back later if-" All noise stopped.

" No! I suddenly became free. Please, go on. "

"Confidentiality?"

" My job, dear. "

"Scouts honor?"

A laugh came from the other end. Jim would have grinned at hearing it, had he not been so angry.

" Yes, now, get on! "

"I had my eye set on a certain specimen. Lovely little thing, very cute, young, screams beautifully ." Jim could only relish in the memory of John writhing in pain and pleasure under him. "I tricked him, fucked him. It was glorious. I've blackmailed him into keeping it going… I got exactly what I wanted but I feel… off. Why?"

" Was it consensual ?"

"By law? No. Did he want it? Well, also no… I said young, didn't I?" Jim snapped. He wished the damned woman would just help him out.

" So you tricked a kid into having forced sex and you want to know why you feel 'off'? " She chuckled.

"That's what I said isn't it?" It came out as a growl. "I've done it before… more than once. Why is it different this time?"

" Have you thought about the possibility that you might be getting soft? " He could hear the smirk.

"Not soft enough to let you forget my threat about skinning you alive, dear."

" Well, maybe you've fallen for the kid. " She was unphased by the threat.

"No. I couldn't have. You do check your caller ID before you answer, right?"

" Yes, love. I didn't think it was possible, but this kid may have finally cracked the ice on your heart. "

"I don't have one."

" And now, you do . Congratulations. Welcome to the land of mortals. "

"What do I do?"

" Well, for starters, stop raping children. "

Jim scoffed. "They weren't all children. Not all of it was forced." If things went his way, he wouldn't need anyone else. His Johnny would be all he needed.

" Is that supposed to make it better?"

"I don't care. Be serious. I'm about to have a very angry right hand man confront me. I really would like it to end amicably. It's so hard to find good help these days." He hoped she got the hint.

" Alright, alright. First, make sure to apologize. You did something wrong, whether you care or not. " Jim wondered if that's what he was feeling… was this guilt? No. It couldn't be. He didn't regret what he'd done. He just, maybe wished Johnny wouldn't have been hurt… as much.

" Next, if you truly want the kid to like you, show that you aren't completely heartless. I know you're not, or you wouldn't have bothered with this call. " Jim wanted to argue, he really did, but he didn't want to cut her off.

" If you want the kid, you have to make them want you. "

"Make him want me… how?"

" Show affection. But only after he feels okay to be around you again. Coming back from being fucked for the first time by someone you were tricked by isn't something you just bounce back from. Don't be yourself too much, especially at first. You might scare him away… and that's if you haven't already ruined your chances with the stunt you pulled. Get him a present. Don't go overboard. "

"Wait- ' if '? You mean, there isn't a guarantee I can get him to want me willingly?"

" Sorry, love. That's what happens when you act before you think. "

"You've given me a lot to think about. Thank you."

Irene gasped. " A thank you! My, this kid must be special. "

"He is." Jim sighed. His Johnny was special.

" Call me if you need anything more from me darling! We don't talk nearly enough. "

The line went flat.

He just had to wait for Sebastian to yell his frustration out. Sebastian wouldn't betray him. He was too loyal, but Jim knew his right hand man could hold a grudge to the grave.

He sighed.

"This was supposed to be easy."

But was it ever?

* * *

Sebastian walked in, bypassing security. They couldn't have stopped him anyway. He found the Boss's cell quickly.

The Boss was sitting in the chair. He smirked when he saw Sebastian. Sebastian crossed the small cell and punched his Boss in the face. Not as hard as he could, but it would definitely leave a mark.

The Boss didn't even cry out. "I probably had that coming." He reached up to feel the blood around his nose. It wasn't broken, but it would smart.

"I can't believe you. I have never been so fucking furious in my life." He faced the bars, not able to look at the man. He didn't worry about leaving his back open. The Boss wouldn't be able to get the jump on him if he tried.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't even-" Sebastian turned around. "Wait- what?"

"I. Am. Sorry." The Boss articulated every word.

"No. You can't be." Sebastian knew the Boss wasn't capable of feeling remorse, he'd done far worse without batting an eye…

"I didn't think so either." He shrugged.

"Stop lying."

He grinned. "Funny when you make a living out of lies that telling the truth gets you called a lier. I'm not, for once."

"I'm going to quit."

The Boss scoffed. "No, you're not."

"Want to fucking bet?" Sebastian started to walk out. Let them come. He'd go out swinging.

"If you leave, who will protect Johnny boy from little ol' me?"

"Sherlock, Mycroft, that D.I. guy. The list is actually pretty long."

"Oh, darling Tiger, we both know they'll never know what hit them." His voice was deadly low. Sebastian had known the man long enough to know he was about to start yelling if he didn't get his way.

"Then I guess it's one or the other. You have to choose between killing me or leaving John alone."

"Aw, are you jealous?"

"No. I will not work for you when I know this is what you've done. Really, what's to stop me from killing you, right now?" Sebastian took a threatening step further.

"I'm sure you could… Buuuut, you know how much of a mess that would leave. I'd like to see you try to clean it up by yourself."

"I could go to Mycroft. Spill all of your secrets."

"Then do it !" He raised his voice. Sebastian knew him well and that's why he knew he couldn't keep working for this man. "Leave."

"I refuse to work-"

"I won't touch the kid again."

"You… that easily?"

"Do you want me to keep fighting? I don't want to have my best man killed because of something I could fix."

Sebastian couldn't understand. The Boss was never this compliant… He had something planned.

"Shake on it. Swear it to me or I will quit and you will be my next target."

The Boss stuck his hand out without hesitation.

"Pleasure doing business with you. Give my regards to my Johnny."

And just like that Sebastian was walking out. When he was in the car park, he looked around and cursed. "Damn it! That fucking- I can't believe I let him do that!" The Boss had just talked himself out of a very slow and painful death, as well as getting Sebastian to swear to keep working for him. And he didn't even say no talking or seeing… he said no touching. Sebastian knew the Boss could do just as much, if not even more , damage without using his hands. He fucking prided himself on it.

And he had sworn his loyalty to the monster.

"Bloody hell." Sebastian put his hands on his head and breathed deeply.

He walked home. He had school tomorrow, but god help him if he actually wanted to go. Documentary, for sure .

If he had to deal with anyone right now, or any time soon, they would not survive the encounter.

He hadn't even gotten a full block away before he realized he was being followed. Good he thought. I'm just itching for a fight . Another two before the car pulled up next to him, parking. He clenched his fists, ready to take the first swing. This was hardly the first time someone had tried to kidnap him. No one had succeeded, though.

But who got out of the car caught him off guard.

"Mr. Moran, if you'll come with me."

Mycroft Bloody Fucking Holmes .

* * *

 **Uh-oh!**  
 **I'm sorry... I don't know how to end chapters normally anymore... They're all cliffhangers...**  
 **Don't worry, I hate me too.**  
 **(ps the first song Sherlock plays, in my mind, was Air on the G String by JS Bach and the one John requests is Concerto in B Minor O. Rieding, Op. 35 - 1 Movement, the other ones he played I didn't really have anything in particular in mind... it's up to you what he played!)**  
 **See you all next time!**

 **(I'm gonna post one more capter tonight then you all will be as caught up as the other site...)**

 **Xoxo**  
 **~Miss Taken**


	14. Chapter 14

**Last one for tonight... and maybe a while. I still haven't finished the 15th chapter yet...**

 **I hope you guys will enjoy this one. It doesn't end on much of a cliffhanger either, so that's good.**

 **Also, I know it's a little unrealistic for a victim to forgive an abuser so soon after... but John is young and he doesn't even really know how to possess what happened, so he's trying to figure it out...**

 **Also, it's fiction... so I hope you won't take this as reality...**

 **Love you guys!**

 **(It's really late and I'm really tired.)**

* * *

"Why don't you go fuck yourself, Mycroft?" The British government sighed.

"You and I both know we need to talk."

"I plead the fifth."

"You know we're in London-"

"I'm exercising my right to remain silent."

"I'm not the-"

"No, but you're the government. See you later." Sebastian tried to walk away.

"You need to-"

"Go home. Yes, I do."

"- Stop cutting me off and get in the car."

"I am very close to punching you. I'm sure that's some kind of offence. I'd rather not be a criminal tonight."

Mycroft scoffed. "You and I both know that's never going to happen. Get in. I can be very… persuasive." He pulled out a gun. Sebastian sighed. He knew The elder Holmes brother wouldn't ever shoot one. But he was tired and he could probably get the man to take him home after he was done yelling.

"I won't talk."

"I'll talk enough for the both of us."

When the door shut, Sebastian realized there was no one else in the car. Risky. Mycroft had no protection besides the gun he held that didn't even look like it had the safety off. Sebastian couldn't tell if he was confidant or stupid.

"Bold move, this." Sebastian gestured around the cab.

"You won't do anything." Mycroft went so far as to put the gun into his lap. Definitely stupid, then.

"So, what is it you want to talk at me about?"

"What happened with John Watson."

Sebastian nodded.

"What happened, will not happen again."

"No it wont."

"I want your word."

"You have it. The moment he betrays his word, I'll come straight to you. But until then, my loyalties lie with him. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get ready for school tomorrow." Really, he just needed to look at some files the Boss had sent over a while ago, entailing odd codes and a pattern of no pattern, but Holmes didn't need to know everything.

"You aren't a real teacher."

"And yet, if you ask anyone there they'll tell you the opposite."

"You're just like him."

"I don't care who, but I have a feeling that you're gonna tell me anyway."

"Sherlock."

"I was right. You just like the sound of your own voice, don't you?"

"Get out of my car, if you please."

"Didn't want to be here in the first place. Thanks for the ride. I do enjoy when it's you who tries to kidnap me."

"You and I will talk soon."

"Keep it as far from now as possible."

"Keep John safe."

"The safest he can be is if I stay very far away."

"That's not true and you know it."

Sebastian got out and didn't look back. He knew being around John was the worst thing for the kid. He wasn't going near him anytime soon, He was just another connection to the Boss.

What Sebastian didn't think about was that if he was away, the Boss would play and the Boss did so love to play rough.

* * *

When John woke up, his throat was dry and his face was damp. He was in Sherlock's room and he was hyper aware of everything. It was around half three in the morning, the pillow was soaked with sweat, drool and tears, Sherlock was moving around in the kitchen and wasn't aware that John was awake yet. John used this time to sit up and check himself over. Physically, he was very sore and a little tired, but nothing besides the burn in his backside that was a hindrance on movement. He'd been sore and tired before.

Emotionally was a different story.

He felt stupid, first and foremost he shouldn't have blindly believed that man. He knew somewhat about cases of child abduction and murder… he never thought it would be like what had happened, but John realized Sherlock had probably filtered those out of John's view.

Second, he felt guilty for lying to Sherlock. If there was one person in the whole wide world he could trust, it was Sherlock. Sherlock who had saved him from the bridge. Who saved John from himself.

Sherlock understood, or, at least accepted John. No questions, no condescending beyond what the detective did to everyone else, and even then, he treated John as an equal, explaining when John didn't understand, but not dumbing things down.

That was the third. He hated what the man did. He hated the situation. But, mostly, John hated himself.

He hated himself for being stupid, he hated that he didn't hate the man. He wanted to. He wanted to hate that bloody horrible man, but he couldn't bring himself to hate another human being.

John decided right there and then that he wouldn't let this and the memory of the man control his life. John was not going to be meek anymore. It might take some work, but John would never be a pushover again. Not for anything. Not for anyone.

After his epiphany, his body decided that was enough revelation for tonight and tried to let sleep drag him into the depths of unconsciousness.

John didn't want to sleep, but his body was exhausted. He tried to get up, but his body wouldn't listen, so he tried to go back to sleep. He was in and out of consciousness until the alarm clock read six. John finally let himself get out of bed and started to get ready.

When he walked out, Sherlock walked by, not even a hello in his direction. He looked to have a purposeful bounce in his step as he walked from one side of the flat to the other. John liked it. Sherlock was acting normal, as if nothing happened.

When he nearly bumped into John a little it seemed to break the trance.

"Ah, good you're awake. I need to tell you some things."

John nodded, moving to the kitchen to make breakfast for the two of them. He popped some bread into the toaster and went to the fridge, ignoring the mold growing on Sherlock's side.

"I'm pulling you out of school."

John dropped the jar of jam, shattering it. "What?"

"John. Please don't make me repeat myself, you know how tedious I find it." Sherlock walked over and swept up some of the glass. So, John couldn't pretend everything was alright. Sherlock was going to treat him like a kid again, forever. He was even sweeping.

"I don't want to leave school!"

"I don't think you can handle it."

"I-I- That-" John was angry. Sherlock didn't think he could take it? After everything he'd been through?

"After recent events I think it would be in everyone's best interests to keep you in someone's sight at all times."

"Sebastian is at school! I'll check in with him."

"Did you forget already that he's the one who introduced to-" John didn't want to hear this right now.

"No, I didn't. But Sebastian didn't know that would happen. Don't forget, you didn't know either and I don't blame you!" John remembered his promise to himself. He had to start somewhere and this was it. He was putting his foot down on it. He nearly felt bad for it... but at the same time, it was invigorating talking back. It was almost hard to remember why he stopped talking back to his father.

Almost.

John turned and headed for the stairs, not caring about the glass he may or may not step on.

"John, don't you walk away from me."

"Go ahead and try to stop me."

John walked away with no resistance. He got ready in his room, throwing on his uniform. The he grabbed his school bag. He didn't want to go down stairs. Especially after openly challenging Sherlock to try and stop him, but he wasn't going out the window, so through the front door was his only option.

After agonizing seconds, he was down the stairs. Sherlock was sitting facing the stairs, but John didn't look at him.

"I'm leaving."

"John-"

"See you after school."

"John. Listen to me."

John paused.

"Just don't go today. Your body needs time to heal and you and I need to talk about what to do next."

"I need to go to school. I'll fall behind."

"You know I know more than those incompetent teachers."

John turned. "Yeah, you do. I don't."

"I don't want you to be out of my sight."

"I have my phone. I'll call you if I think I can't do it." With that John left.

Sherlock was alone in the sitting room.

He sighed. "No you won't. You're too stubborn."

When John got to school, he immediately regretted his decision. The walk there had been so difficult, and his body was screaming at him. But he refused to let that slow him down.

He was nearly ten minutes late, thanks to his delayed departure and slow pace, but his first class was easy and the teacher didn't care.

He checked his phone, meaning to send a message to Sherlock to say he was at school, but he had a text.

One from the contact 'Richard Brook'. John struggled not to throw his phone.

 **Hi cutie~**

 **Sorry I was so rough yesterday. Why don't you come to the park and I'll make it up to** **you** **!**

John didn't want to, but he just wanted the man to stop. Not being a pushover meant not letting this man trample all over his life. He wouldn't let him.

 **I'm in school. Lose my number and leave me the hell alone.**

 **-JW**

John knew that wouldn't be the end of it, but he'd hoped the reply would at least take a while.

 **Oh, you actually answered! Wonderful. I thought I was just going to have to show up and kidnap you again ;)**

There was a second text immediately after.

 **I know you don't want to be there. Come to the park and I'll make sure Sherlock never knows you weren't at school.**

John wanted to text Sherlock. He knew he should… but if he did, then Sherlock would take him out of school. John was already behind his peers in the social aspect, only dealing with Sherlock would never allow him to make friends. John couldn't stay at the flat forever. He was determined, and god help him if he wasn't going to say something back.

 **Sod off.**

 **-JW**

John didn't want to be at school, but he really didn't want to see the man either.

 **Suit yourself. When you change your mind, let me know! My offer will stand. See you soon, Johnny~!**

John sighed in relief.

Crisis averted.

He was late to his first class, but not the second or third. Fourth was English class. He was supposed to have his letter to his pen pal done to give to Sebastian.

He didn't. But he could write it super quick. He didn't have much he could say, really. That made it easy. It felt like it had been ages since he last wrote a letter to his pen pal. He couldn't even remember what he had and hadn't said.

He'd have to send an excuse letter.

Dear James,

Hi! It's me. Sorry, I really don't remember what we have and haven't talked about. I've been terribly busy with school and helping Sherlock with his newest case.

I can't even think of interesting questions to ask you about yourself… I'm sorry, I'm not a very good pen pal.

I hope I have more interesting things to say in the next one!

Your friend,

-John Watson

When John was satisfied, he took it to Sebastian. Or, he tried to.

As soon as he stepped foot into the classroom, which was empty as all the kids had gone to lunch, Sebastian ordered him out.

"Get out, John."

"I-I just have m-my letter for-"

"Forget the letter. I'm not sending it."

"B-but-"

"No, John. Now, I have lots of work and you know you and I are no longer supposed to be around each other,"

"I- But I just wanted-"

"No."

"Will you at least give this last letter to him so he knows that I didn't forget about him…?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Just this one and you don't even have to give me his response, if you don't want to."

Sebastian sighed. "I guess that would be alright."

"Let me add a little to it then."

Dear James,

Hi! It's me. Sorry, I really don't remember what we have and haven't talked about. I've been terribly busy with school and helping Sherlock with his newest case.

I can't even think of interesting questions to ask you about yourself… I'm sorry, I'm not a very good pen pal.

I hope I have more interesting things to say in the next one! Scratch that.

Actually, this is the last letter I'm allowed to send you… I'm sorry. I hope you get a new pen pal who is better at conversation.

I hope you are doing well and make better life decisions!

It was nice to talk to you, however brief the time was…

Your friend,

-John Watson

John handed Sebastian the letter.

"Alright, leave."

"O-okay. Maybe we can-"

"No John. There will be no more 'us' or 'we' You and I can no longer be around each other. Now, go away. It's nothing against you, this is for your own good, I swear."

John nodded and turned to go to the bathroom, He felt a lump in his throat. One of his only friends was rejecting him. Not just that, but actually making John leave. And he'd lost his pen pal. John was heart broken. He didn't want to cry at school though. He was trying to be a man, not a wimp.

He pulled out his phone.

 **Which park…?**

 **-JW**

 **The one right next to your school, dear. I'll be there in twenty minutes. See you soon!**

 **-Xoxo**

John knew it was a bad Idea, but being on the verge of a panic attack often impairs judgment. And he just really didn't want to be at the school all alone.

Maybe taking care of the man would make him feel a little more in control. But, if he got Sherlock involved, it would just prove to the detective that John was a baby who couldn't take care of himself. John would just go and talk to the man. If he did, then Sherlock would treat him like an adult. John could handle it himself.

Plus the man said he'd make it up to John. John could use that as blackmail if things got out of hand.

Right?

When John arrived, he saw the man sitting on a park bench, a cup of something steaming in one hand, his phone, held to his ear, in the other. He wasn't wearing his normal comfortable clothes. He has instead wearing an impeccable suit.

When he spotted John getting closer he smiled and waved him over.

"Just one second, Johnny. Work." Then into the phone, "I don't care that he wants out. He should have thought about that when we told him. His own fault for poor decision making. Take care of it. I've got company." He paused. John couldn't hear the other voice, but it sounded like bad news from the man's face. "Well, in that case. You know what to do with him. Yes. Alright. See that it does." And then he hung up, the dark look leaving his face in an instant.

"Johnny! I'll be honest, I didn't think you'd show up. Especially alone! What a pleasant surprise."

"I just wanted to come and tell you I want you to leave me alone. I don't want to ever hear from you again." John didn't want to sound rude, but he couldn't help it. He was ready for the man to snap, get angry, hell, hit him… but the response was not what he was expecting.

"Aw, Johnny, you say the nicest things!"

"B-but that-"

"I know you don't really mean it."

"I do! I don't want to see you again. Ever."

"Yet you showed up. Without dear Sherlock."

"W-well…"

"You and I need to talk about things , by the way."

John got scared. He couldn't let the man send the video to Sherlock. Sherlock seemed uncomfortable enough just knowing what happened. He wouldn't want to see it… unless he would want to… but that was a scary thought and John refused to think it again.

"It's so cute watching your thoughts flicker across your face."

"I d-didn't tell anyone!"

"Oh, I know you didn't. Sherlock knows, but I know you didn't tell him. You don't have to worry about the video. In fact, once you trust me more, I'll delete the video in its entirety."

"I don't want to do anything we did yesterday ever again."

"Not even with Sherlock?"

John didn't answer. He didn't know. Would he want to?

"It's okay. I'll take care of you and protect you from the world."

"W-well, who's going to protect me from you?"

"Oh, Johnny, you're such a smart little pet!"

"I-I'm not a pet!"

"Do you like ice cream?"

"I- … I guess so? I can't remember having it… That's a random question."

"It's not random. I'm going to buy you ice cream. I may as well ask if you like it first."

"Why would you buy me ice cream?"

"Because you're sweet and deserve sweet things. "

"Don't call me sweet."

"Bad move, telling me not to do something. Now I'll never stop."

"Why do I have the terrible feeling you're not talking about calling me sweet…?"

"Because you're not absolutely stupid. Anyway, I also said I'd make it up to you. So, unless you think of something else on the way, ice cream is my apology."

"I-I should really go back to school…"

"That's no fun. You don't even want to."

"Well… No… but if Sherlock finds out, he won't only take me out of school for the rest of my life, he'll also never let me leave his sight. I don't know about you, but for me, being around a very fickle sociopath around the clock is not easy."

"I'll take care of it and make sure no one knows about it as long as you keep me company for a little while, deal?"

"I… I-"

"Come on. Your getting out of school and you get ice cream. What's not to like?"

"I'm… a little uneasy around my company…?"

The man just chuckled.

"Smart, pet. Very good."

John pouted.

"I… I don't even know your real name…"

"Jim. Hi."

"Uh… hi?"

"Now that we're best friends, let's go get that ice cream."

"I- I don't think we're best-"

"Name three other people who have bought you ice cream and gotten you out of school to hang out."

"Uh… I-"

"Exactly, you can't even name one. I'm as close to a best friend as you've got."

"Sherlo-"

"Have you ever just hung out with Sherlock? Just went and got tea or lunch because he suggested it, not you? For a reason other than it helped him along on a case, I mean. Has he ever seen the beautiful faces you make when you're on your back just begging -"

"Stop." John didn't want Jim to say such things. John had only just promised to not let it affect him.

"Oh, did I touch a nerve?"

"I don't like what happened yesterday. At all. Frankly I'm still not sure what even happened… I do know that I'm not happy with you."

"I told you, that's what friends do."

"Then we aren't friends."

"Aw, poor Johnny can't admit he liked it."

"I didn't… It hurt. And it was scary. Not a single part of me like that."

"Your body did."

"No, it didn't. I still can't walk without limping a little. That's not enjoyment." Jim seemed to think this over, going so far as to turn his head from John.

"Can we still be friends?"

"I… No, I don't think so, I'm sorry…"

"What if I delete the pictures?"

"I wish you would just do that anyway…"

"What if I also promise not to do anything like that again? Unless you want to, of course."

"I- you… you would be okay with that?"

"I guess so." He sighed overdramatically, throwing his hand over his face, spreading his fingers and peeking through.

John fought a smile. "Okay… Okay. I'll give you another chance. But you have to tell me the truth if I ask for it! No bullshit answers or blatant lies…"

"I wish I could kiss you. You have such a kissable face, Johnny." John started to step back, already being uncomfortable. "But I'm not one to break my promises, especially not right after I've made them."

John let his shoulders relax a little.

"Let's go get that ice cream." Jim started to walk, John followed next to him.

"Sweet."

"Yes you are."

"Nuh, uh,"

"Yeah, huh."

John stuck his tongue out at Jim. "Why are you wearing such fancy clothes to the park?"

"This is what I wear everyday."

"That's so lame."

"It's called fashion, look it up."

"And now you're at a ten on the lame scale."

"How are kids these days still using the word 'lame'?"

"You're only a few years older than me."

"I keep forgetting. Maybe it's just because you're so small."

"I'm not even that small!"

"Yeah you are."

"Nuh, uh!"

"Yeah, huh!"

John giggled. They walked into what John assumed was an ice cream shop. Jim ordered something called a banana split and they took it to the table.

Jim motioned for John to take a bite.

"This is the greatest thing ever. Oh my gosh."

"Just think, your classmates are all dying of boredom in their classes and you're here eating sugary junk food."

"Sucks to be them." John took another bite. Jim pulled out his phone. John didn't understand… was he being ignored? It was okay… but if John was going to give Jim a second chance, John really didn't want to be ignored.

"Take a nice big bite. It's even better." Jim didn't look up from the phone, but John did what was suggested.

The pain was instant. So was the sound of the shutter of Jim's phone camera.

John suddenly felt like his brain was frozen and tears sprung to his eyes. He dropped the spoon

"Brain freeze!" Jim yelled, laughing, snapping another picture or two as John held his temples, willing the headache to go away.

"You sodding bastard, you knew that was going to happen!"

"And you're reaction was greater than I could have imagined, and I have a pretty good imagination."

"Delete those pictures!"

"No way. Look how funny they are." John had to admit, they were pretty hilarious faces. That didn't stop him from trying to grab the phone from Jim's hand. He missed, but succeeded in getting some ice cream on Jim's nose. John pulled out his own phone snapping pictures of the weird faces Jim made when he tried to lick it of, failing spectacularly.

John wondered if this is what putting his foot down resulted in. Friendship.

This was what thought of when he heard the word 'friendship'. Laughing, playfully teasing, snarking around and, generally, just having fun.

The ice cream was just a bonus.

* * *

When John got home, he was immediately bombarded with the smell of formaldehyde.

"Sherlock?"

"Kitchen."

John walked in. Sherlock was wearing his goggles, meaning it was probably a good idea to stay out.

"What are you doing?"

"For the case, John."

"Well, I knew that… what are you doing?"

Sherlock snapped his head up.

"You're distracting me."

"I… I'll be upstairs then…"

It smelled like chemicals in his room too. John hated it, but his heart was light as a feather. He didn't have things to worry about. Jim was his friend and promised not to do anything… weird again, and John was still in school.

John wondered if he should tell Sherlock the man was his friend now… but the interaction in the kitchen told him no. To wait until the case was over. It was a long one. Sherlock had enjoyed it at first, but it was frustrating him so much John could see he was close to just lighting the whole of London on fire.

John heard the front door open and Greg walk in. Well, it sounded like Greg's footfalls, but John couldn't really be sure until their guest started talking.

The muffled conversation drifted up to him and John could imagine how everything must be going down. Facial expressions and all.

"There's been another." Sherlock wouldn't have looked up from what he was doing.

"And you haven't been answering your calls."

"Busy."

"Bloody hell Sherlock, aren't you supposed to be helping? This is the sixth body in six weeks. I'll pull you from the case and all future cases if you don't get it together."

"You wouldn't do that, you need me."

"No. You need me. I need to keep the general public from getting murdered."

"Dull."

"Listen are you coming to see the body or not?"

"What was the word?"

"I think it was 'Aren't', but I haven't seen it myself."

"You're no help. Leave me alone. I need to concentrate."

"I can't believe you unbelievable-"

"Watch your language, young ears are listening."

John jumped back from his cracked open door, not sure how Sherlock knew.

"Hi, John!" Greg called up.

"Hello." John called down.

Greg's voice went quieter and John strained to hear him.

"Get it together, or you're off this one."

Sherlock probably still hadn't looked up.

John heard the front door close again.

"John, come down stairs."

John made his way down slowly.

"Yeah?"

"How was school?"

Sherlock didn't look up, but John could tell he had all of the detective's attention.

"I… I think I made a friend."

"I don't know if I like that."

"But- I thought it was good for me to make friends…"

"I don't think you can call them a friend after only just meeting them. So what did you two do?"

"He bought ice cream for me after school." John didn't mean to lie, but it just kind of slipped.

"You like ice cream?" Sherlock looked up.

"I liked the kind we got… I don't know how I feel about other ice creams…"

"I never knew."

"You… never asked."

"No, I suppose I didn't." He looked back at his work.

"I need a brake. Want to go get something to eat?"

John was stunned. Hadn't he and Jim just talked about this?

"I- I'd love to!"

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing on John's eagerness, simply going to get his coat.

"I need to stop by the morgue anyway."

Oh John thought, so we're going to the morgue for a few hours while Molly tries to get a date from Sherlock… goodie.

Jim was right. Sherlock was a bit… inconsiderate… but John didn't stay around him for his manners.

When they got to the morgue, Molly was waiting for them, or, well, Sherlock. She forgot John's name pretty consistently.

"Sherlock, hi!"

"Molly."

They walked in and John knew this would take a while.

Sherlock examined the body, sure enough, the word was 'Aren't' and the cause of death was this person had been stabbed through the common carotid artery with a pen, this person fell onto it, it wasn't stabbed through with human hands… just gravity. But John didn't want to come right out and say that.

"John, do you want to try?"

"I… Not really."

"Too bad. How will you get better if you don't practice?"

"It looks like the wound was inflicted by a dull instrument. The angle makes it look like it was self inflicted, but I'd wager it was done by someone else? Um… but it looks like there wasn't a struggle…"

He looked up at Sherlock.

"Good. Better than usual."

"Really? Did I get anything wrong abou-"

"Mostly wrong, but you're learning."

Sherlock shot off onto a tangent that would probably take him a while to get back from. While Molly swooned, John brought out his phone.

He wished he would have brought a snack.

He had a text.

 **In the employee lounge, there's a box of biscuits that are community. Go have some of those. If Sherlock doesn't leave in an hour, I'll come get you and you and I can go have dinner without him.**

 **Xoxo,**

 **~Jim**

John smiled, not really caring how Jim knew they were at the morgue let alone how there were biscuits in the lounge. John's stomach was just growling incessantly. As he walked out, he thought he heard Molly say something about a new employee starting soon, but that's all he heard before he left.

Those Biscuits were his.

An hour later, Sherlock still had yet to move from the body, watching Molly do the autopsy.

Jim sent a text telling him to tell Sherlock he was going and not to worry.

"I'm going to get dinner, I'm gonna starve otherwise."

"Yes, yes. Whatever."

Sherlock waved a hand, not looking away from the cadaver.

"I'll see you back at home I guess…"

John walked out and saw Jim standing there.

"Hello."

"How is my little pet?"

"I'm not a pet."

"Let's go get dinner, shall we?"

"I think I'll die if we don't. Let's go get my wallet first though. I don't have any money on me right now."

"Don't worry about it. My treat."

"I can't let you do that… We don't live that far."

"Johnny boy, I said it was my treat. Don't worry."

"I-"

"Unless your next word is 'accept' shut that gorgeous trap of yours."

"...Okay, fine. But next time, I get to pay."

"Oh~ There's already a next time, is there?"

"Ah, shut up, Jim."

"Yes, sir."

They ate at a restaurant close by John's flat. Some little coffee shop that had really good sandwiches. They talked about what classes John had missed earlier, what Sherlock said when John got home and how Greg burst in.

"So, what case is it?"

"I… can't tell you."

"But I'm your friend!"

"It's still ongoing… when it's done I'll tell you. How's that?"

"Ugh. You are no fun at all."

"I'm great! I'm just not one to blab secrets."

"Sherlock teach you that one?"

"Oh, stop. Just because I listen to what he says doesn't mean he tells me what to do."

"Didn't you say he's threatened to take you out of school on multiple occasions?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"All I'm saying is that you should stand up to him more. I'm sure he'd appreciate it. Might even admire it. I'm all for you being cute and mousey, but you've got to learn when to stand your ground."

"So… don't be so much of a pushover…?"

"Exactly."

When it was time to leave, John found he really didn't want to. Jim wasn't that bad. He was really charming and one of the funniest people ever.

John knew he made the right choice to give him a second chance.

At the front door of 221 Baker Street, Jim and John shared their last goodbyes.

"We'll have to do this again." Jim said.

"What can I say. I'm a fun guy."

"That you are, Johnny. That you are." John decided here and now he'd officially forgive Jim… but he wouldn't forget what the man was capable of doing.

Jim gave a predatory stare, but John wasn't as put off by it as he had been. It was something the older man did a lot, so John got used to it."Bye, Jim."

"Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite, Johnny boy." Jim blew a kiss. Kind of creepy, but he'd promised not to touch John.

So far he hadn't. Not even an accidental brush of the hand.

Weird. John didn't really expect Jim to keep his word… but it was still only day one of their 'friendship'.

John walked up to the flat, looking for Sherlock as he changed the contact from ' Richard Brook ' to ' Jim ' so Sherlock wouldn't find them.

Sherlock wasn't home yet. John sighed.

Another day another murder. John hoped this case was at least entertaining him.

And that the detective ate something.

He was still really bad about that.

He probably hadn't even noticed John had left.

* * *

Sherlock examined the body, talking John through it. After around two hours of watching Molly do the autopsy, Sherlock began to weave the story.

About an hour into the talk, Molly tried to get his attention. John wasn't in the room, but Sherlock knew he'd probably just excused himself to the bathroom.

Meaning the detective would have to repeat himself. Dreadful.

"-And we went to dinner and-"

"Molly, I have not been listening to your very detailed description of your most recent 'date'."

"O-oh. That's alright… I was just saying he works in IT and-"

"I don't care. Where'd John go?" Molly seemed put out, but answered anyway.

"He, uh, left about an hour or so ago, I think."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"W-well no. He told you he was leaving, I thought you'd heard him."

"I'm going to find him."

"Do you need a lift or help? My boyfrie-"

"No. I do not require any more of your 'help'. Let me know when there is more you can tell me."

"Let me know when you find him."

"You don't care, you just want to talk about your boyfriend and try to convince yourself you like him and not me."

"You're so selfish!"

"What colour are John's eyes?"

"U-um, sorry, what?"

"His eyes. What colour are they? Surely if you paid any attention at all, you would know."

"Brown…?"

"Not even close. I'm leaving."

"You knew I didn't know! That's not fair."

"Neither is claiming to care about someone when you really don't." Sherlock got to the door, leaning back just a second to look her in the eye.

"Do keep that in mind." With a wink to her, he was gone, leaving her mouth flapping, angry and speechless.

Sherlock had no reception to text John inside the building, but the moment he was out, there were five sent directly to John's phone, hopping in the first cab he saw.

"Baker Street."

 **Where are u**

 **-SH**

 **Answer me**

 **-SH**

 **U better b home**

 **-SH**

 **John, I swear if u don't answer**

 **-SH**

 **I'll b home in 5**

 **-SH**

John had exactly thirty seconds to receive, respond and send a reply or Sherlock was going to call Lestrade.

John got lucky and replied in only twenty two of his allotted time.

 **I got hungry and went to get dinner. I'm at home. I'll put the tea on for you.**

 **-JW**

Sherlock was relieved. He'd never admit that though.

When he arrived at the flat, John was just pouring two cups. He turned when Sherlock opened the door.

"Hi, Sherlock, how was the autopsy?"

"Why did you leave?"

"I was hungry and thought I was going to die if I didn't eat. Speaking of did you eat?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did. Then I told Molly to tell you if you asked. I'll make you something. Give me a few."

"I'm on a case, John."

"This is week six of the case and I'm not letting you go days without food anymore. You'll pass out mid chase. Then what? Leave London to burn?"

Sherlock paced frantically.

"Where did you go? Mycroft didn't say anything about you even leaving."

"Why would he? Never mind, I'm sure I don't want to know. I don't know? I walked in with you, why would it be so far fetched for me to walk out without you?"

"Where did you go?" "I don't know the name of it. It was a coffee shop deal, though."

"You don't like coffee."

"But I like the smell of coffee."

"No you don't."

"Okay, no I don't, but their sandwiches were really good."

He smelled like coffee and had crumbs around his mouth… He could have made himself the sandwich, but not even the faint smell of coffee was in the flat. John wasn't lying.

John plopped a plate on the table, motioning for Sherlock to sit. He didn't.

"Sherlock, sit down before you fall down."

"That doesn't make sense, John."

"I didn't make the saying, Sherlock, I just-"

"No, not that. You hate trying new things. Why would you go, unprompted, to a coffee shop when you hate coffee?"

"Sherlock, you're overthinking this. I was hungry and it was rather close. Come eat your sandwich."

Sherlock picked the sandwich up, taking small bites as he continued to pace.

"You seem like your in a good mood." Sherlock said, spitting a crumb or two with his words.

" Ew , don't talk with your mouth full."

"Given recent events, you seem like yourself… even better. What's going on?"

"Is there something wrong with being happy?"

"So soon after what happened yesterday? I'm afraid so. You haven't even stuttered once since I've been home."

"I-uh…"

"Oh, don't start now, I'm just trying to figure out why. What happened in the span of a few hours that I've been trying to do for years ?"

"I don't know, Sherlock. They were really good sandwiches."

"Don't play dumb, John."

"I'm not playing."

"And you aren't normally this stupid. Out with it." Sherlock had finished the dinner John had made him.

"There's nothing to get out!"

"I'll…" Sherlock tried to think of an appropriate punishment. "I'll send you to your room.

"Oh, wow."

"Go to your room, young man." Young man? Where had that come from? His father used to tell him that when he'd bring animals into the house. Christ, was this what parenting was like? How awful.

If he was the kind to apologies, he'd call his mother right then and there and beg for forgiveness from all the terrible things he'd done as a boy.

"Send me to my room then. I have homework I need to do anyway. And books. And I could just go to bed. Real great punishment, dad." John was stomping over to the stairs, then up them.

Sherlock was stunned. What in the hell had prompted that ? John had never, ever , talked back. Sherlock looked into the sitting room, making sure there were no cameras to see his shock. There weren't. Meaning, it was all John.

But… over on the table, was John's walet. It hadn't moved since they'd left the first time. Meaning… John hadn't taken it and couldn't have bought himself dinner.

If Sherlock weren't still angry with John he'd march up there now and make the boy tell him the truth. Sherlock had too much pride for that, but still…

Who had John gone with?

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed! And I hope that me posting these chapters now will kinda make up for me not posting since... ya know**

 **April?**

 **Sorry again about that...**

 **Have a nice day!**

 **Xoxo,**

 **~Miss Taken**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys! Here's chapter 15. I posted it a few days ago on Ao3... Then forgot to do it here.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Hopefully the next one won't take nearly as long.**

 **Sorry for any (and all) mistakes!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

John didn't go to class very much for the next few weeks. He skipped school nearly every day to hang out with Jim. John was afraid that Sherlock would find out at first, but if he did, he never said anything.

The first week, the one he started off skipping just the second half of school, was great and he still made it to the majority of his classes.

John and Jim would hang out and talk about how things were in life. Jim would tell stories about his work, never giving enough detail for them to make a lot of sense, but John enjoyed them anyway. John would tell about Sherlock's antics.

John really liked hanging out with Jim. It made him feel older. It made him feel appreciated. Sherlock hadn't been around recently and the last time he and John had talked was when Sherlock had sent John to his room.

John was definitely over it, not all that bitter anymore, but he was starting to miss Sherlock. John was alone more often than not when he was at the flat, to try to combat this, he spent every moment he could with Jim. They went to the park, their coffee shop. And just hung out.

The second week was similar but not the same. Another dead body, less time with Sherlock, normal. John tried to convince himself that there were six people dead, but, damnit. John wanted to be important had work, though John _still_ didn't know what he did, but John had lunch with him every day and during that time, he still went to his first few classes and his last class though.

The third week, the seventh body, he couldn't remember going at all. He had missed a large chunk of school, so he didn't see the point of going if he was already so behind.

It's not like Sherlock was around to yell at him.

John didn't know what was going on with the case, but it didn't really matter. Sherlock wasn't telling and John gave up asking.

There was another word, from what John heard when he listened in on Greg and Sherlock. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't care.

Jim was his best friend.

John knew he shouldn't say that, because it felt like he was leaving Sherlock behind, but Sherlock left him first. Sherlock was busy, but John wanted his attention… Well Jim provided. They were together every time they could be, and when they weren't, they were talking via text.

Jim expected things to always go his way and if they didn't… well John had only seen that once in the three weeks they'd been hanging out as oficial friends.

"Sherlock was asking me about you, you know."

"Oh?" Jim had stopped smiling.

"Yeah, he wants to meet you."

"I don't know about that, Pet. He might not approve."

"Of what?"

"Us. I'm not exactly your age, you know? And what about the _things_ you've done?"

"Well, you said we were friends when you wanted to... you know… Why not when my best friend wants to meet you?" John snapped.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me like that. I'll do whatever I please, whether you like it or not."

"I just don't think it's very fair that-"

"If you were really my friend, you wouldn't keep bringing that up and trying to force me into meeting someone I don't want to know. You're so _selfish_." John had stayed silent. Jim was right. Just because Jim had taken his choice away once didn't mean he owed John… and even if he did, he'd more than made up for it.

"I-I'm sorry," John lowered his head.

"I'll let it go this time, but, maybe next time, think before you have ideas."

In health class, they had an entire week's lesson on abusive relationships. How to identify them, what to do if you find yourself in one and how to keep yourself safe from abusers.

Such a shame John skipped his classes. That lesson would have saved him from a lot of trouble.

In the first week, Jim had convinced John to stay out late. Later than he had ever been out with Sherlock, but because it was fun and John was responsible enough that Jim trusted him with keeping a secret, John loved it. They didn't do anything besides walk around, but it was so much fun to see the streets of London from this side of the street at night, knowing he had somewhere he could go home to. He still made it to school in the mornings. Usually…

The second week was different… John knew he was at an impressionable age, but he wouldn't fall for tricks. Jim really was sorry about what he did and he was trying to make up for it. John believed him and it wasn't just his hormones talking.

So when Jim offered a sip of alcohol, telling him it was okay under supervision, John didn't refuse to strongly. He knew he could handle it as long as it wasn't a lot. He had more the next time. Enough to feel slightly woozy, but not to impair his judgment or motor skills.

The next time he did. John still couldn't really remember that night very well. As the week went on, it only got worse.

It was bloody brilliant… until it wasn't.

The third week was probably the worst. No, not probably, it definitely was.

He and Jim stayed out every night, walking, talking, sometimes they would throw rocks, break windows, lamps, CCTV cameras… John felt bad, but it felt great to break things. John was frustrated all the time, it seemed. With Sherlock, with the people at school, with… with _life_. Jim made it better. So did the alcohol.

John didn't know how Jim kept sneaking a _way_ too young kid into bars… but after one such night, Jim was completely sober, claiming he had to make sure John didn't do anything stupid, as they walked out of the back of the bar. Jim never drank. John assumed he was allergic to alcohol or something. He didn't really care.

John wasn't nervous around him anymore, and Jim couldn't be wrong, so John didn't see any problem with this. Maybe if he'd been sober a red flag would have popped up… but he so rarely was anymore.

They walked for no more than two minutes before John was pushed against a wall, sharp metal to his throat.

"If you move, your kid dies." The man growled.

"That hurts." John's arm was twisted painfully, but wasted as he was, he couldn't really feel it. Or the knife pressed to his throat for that matter. But he knew it should.

Not a second later, John slipped to the ground, watching through blurry vision as Jim kicked the man in the chest, no doubt breaking a few ribs. Jim helped John up, but the tunnel vision was so bad, Jim was basically carrying John at this point. It also meant John didn't see the wad of cash Jim threw at the man who was now wheezing for breath.

John had come to shortly after, nerves still humming.

"You can put me down. I can walk now."

"Does this count as touching you?" Jim joked.

"No, I'll let it slide. This time."

"Whew." Jim faked relief.

"That was scary." John said, not really meaning it, but it had been scary to not know if he would have been able to stop the man if Jim hadn't been there.

"Here, try this. It always calms me down." Jim pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

If John had been _any_ less drunk, he would have hit himself. Jim didn't smoke. John knew that. Jim had never smelled like smoke and for all the time they spent together, John had never seen a single cigaret on Jim's person. But he wasn't any less drunk, so he reached for it, letting Jim light it. He sucked in a breath, not even coughing. He was a natural. Feeling the hot smoke breath life into his lungs.

He was drinking and smoking as much as his father and his sister. He was just like them. He would hate himself, if Jim wasn't the one saying it was okay.

John was still very drunk and he couldn't move in a very straight line, so when Jim started to walk away, John found he couldn't follow.

"Jim, wait up." He slurred, but Jim just turned and smiled, then slipped into the darkness.

The next thing John knew, he was in the back of a police car.

Sherlock was done. This case was ridiculous. The bodies were obviously a countdown, though he didn't know what for. The last word in the previous sentence was 'safe' carved in Morse code, with the body seemingly decapitated with safety scissors.

It didn't make sense and Sherlock was done. There would be three more victims then it would be over.

John was going to hate him.

But there was nothing he could do. No reliable pattern, no distinguishable suspects.

And it was too bloody early in the morning. No one should be up at the crack of dawn, though John would have already left for school by now. Strange, Sherlock hadn't heard him leave. But, really, that wasn't surprising.

He hadn't slept in days and hadn't eaten since John forced that sandwich down his throat nearly two weeks ago besides a nibble here and there.

And he hated being away from John for so long.

Sherlock was done. When Lestrade called, Sherlock sighed in relief, he could tell the D.I. he was out right then and there and be done with it, then he'd go get John from school and maybe pass out on the couch while John talked his ear off about arbitrary things he liked to go on about.

" _Get your ass down to the station now. I'm not even joking."_ Geoff sounded _pissed_. Then hung up.

Sherlock was already on his way down the stairs.

He was at New Scotland Yard in under five minutes. Maybe there was finally a break in the case, maybe this would be over and he wouldn't _have_ to back down.

Then he saw Lestrade's face. It was twisted with furry.

"I am so angry with you I have no words."

"Whatever it is I'm sure I didn't-"

"Where's John, Sherlock?"

"At school."

"Oh, is he? Because last I checked, when I got in this morning, just about fifteen minutes ago, he was in the fucking drunk tank. We also found cigarettes in his pocket with a lot of them missing."

Sherlock didn't even know how to react.

"That's not-"

"Just because he's not your kid doesn't mean you shouldn't fucking ground him when he need to be taught a lesson."

"He's my flat-"

"Yeah, flatmate that you have custody over."

Sherlock tried not to be a prick. Well, no he doesn't, but for Lestrade he usually tries at least a little bit not to be terrible to the D.I.

But Lestrade has no say in how John is reared. Especially when it was _him_ that asked for help in the first place.

"I'm dropping the case. Bring John out here, we're leaving."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I won't repeat myself."

"You've never dropped a case before. Why-"

"If John needs my time, well, not having a case opens up my whole schedule. If I have to drop this case to make time for him, so be it. We have no leads, no suspects. All _you've_ done is wait, letting trails go cold and making it harder.

"In your mind I'm a bad father, but I will _not_ fail as a caretaker. But you know what? I'm lost. John had another incident the other day. I think that's where this outburst came from. And if you think I'll wait idly while John falls down the exact same hole I did, you can go straight to hell, Lestrade."

People were staring. Lestrade was staring. Sherlock was done.

"If you don't turn around and go get him, I will never set another foot onto one of your crime scenes."

That got him moving. Without a word, Lestrade went back to the holding cell.

John didn't know what hell was like, but he'd say this was close. His head was throbbing, and the metal clank of the door was not helping.

"Get up John. Sherlock's here to take you home."

John slowly got up, trying not to vomit, fall over or a sick combination of both.

"Oh, John, I'm so disappointed. I thought you were better than this."

"Why don't you go fuck yourself, Greg? You just don't understand."

Greg sighed. He remembered his first teenager… not as bad, but he remembered how hard it could be.

He hopped Sherlock knew what he was doing.

Sherlock did _not_ know what he was doing. John looked sick, but even so he had a scowl that made the muscles in his face twitch slightly.

The way home was silent. When they _did_ get home, Sherlock was the first to speak.

"Go to your room until I figure out what to do with you." Sherlock sounded defeated and John almost felt bad. Almost. Quickly it was replaced with anger.

"Oh, the genius doesn't know what to do? Did hell freeze over while I was passed out?"

"John I-"

"Save it. I don't care." And up the stairs he went.

Sherlock collapsed into his chair. He felt old. Not even six years ago he was a teenager. He remembered it vividly. How much damage he'd done… not only to himself, but to everything he touched.

There was only one person who could help… and if it weren't dire, he'd never even consider it.

He picked up his phone. It was picked up on the first ring.

"Mycroft."

" _Ah, brother, what a surprise. Tell me, what hell has arrisin that you've called me of your own volition?"_

"I… I'm calling into effect rule number 16 from the book."

" _Do remind me. Was that the one about fires or helping on another and then never speaking about it again?"_

"Take a wild guess." Sherlock wasn't in the mood for word play. He just wanted to help John and Mycroft was the only one who could help right now.

" _Alright. How can I be of assistance?"_

" … Damn it, Myc. I just pulled John from the drunk tank. He had cigarettes in his pocket and suddenly he is really aggravated. _Constantly_. And he keeps talking back. I don't know what's going on and he won't say more than 'fuck you' to me. What do I do, Myc?"

He hadn't used the nickname since he was six, but he was tired, hungry and worried about John. If anyone could be there for Sherlock right now, it was Mycroft. Sherlock knew if Mycroft was any less composed, he'd be teasing Sherlock within an inch of his life. Maybe even try to get Sherlock to owe him a favor… But rule sixteen said 'One may ask the other for help once a year for advice/help, for three consecutive minutes, no favors due, and once the problem is fixed, it will not be talked about again unless the problem persists.' and Sherlock hadn't used this in _years_. But Mycroft couldn't help but poke a little.

" _This is shocking. I never-"_

"Yes, yes. It must be rich coming from _me_ , but _please_ brother."

Mycroft sighed. " _Be firm with him. Don't give_ any _bend. Ground him or punish him in some way. He's not you, it will work, but don't be cruel, be truthful. Most of all,_ talk _to him. Let him know_ why _you're upset, not just that you are. Figure out what suddenly changed. Look at what_ you've _been doing. Have you been around? When's the last time you said something nice to him? Given him attention at all? If it_ is _sudden, there's a reason."_

"I didn't have a reason. What if he doesn't?"

" _First, this isn't about you. Second, you_ did _have a reason, even if it was just to see what you could get away with. Third, you and John are polar opposites. John has a reason. Don't force him to talk about it, but get him to tell you and have him think it's because he_ wanted _to."_

"Well, how do I do that?"

" _You're a genius, figure it out."_

"Anything else?" The allotted time was almost up.

" _Yes. One last thing. Don't doubt yourself, you're a good man. You can do this."_

"What the _hell_ am I supposed to do with that?"

" _Keep John from making the same mistakes you did."_

"…Thanks, Myc."

" _Let that horrid name die already."_

"Not a chance." He hung up, knowing Mycroft was busy and also wanting to get the talk with John over. He put the kettle on and sat at the table, trying not to fall asleep right there.

After he and John got this all squared away, he was going to take the longest nap ever.

The kettle whistled and, with John's tea just how he likes it, Sherlock knew he couldn't stall anymore.

He walked to the base of the stairs.

"John, come down here."

* * *

John was fuming. Not only had Jim left him to be caught, but now Sherlock was trying to be his parent. It was infuriating. John wasn't a little kid. He knew damn well what he did was wrong. He just wanted to hit something.

He heard Sherlock call for him.

"John, come down here."

John debated not doing that, but he didn't have anything better to do.

When John had walked as slowly down the stairs as possible, he saw Sherlock in the sitting room with tea.

Two cups… John tried to not let his guard down, but Sherlock never made tea.

"What do you want?"

"Have a seat." John didn't budge yet. "You need to tell me what drove you to take up smoking and drinking. I can help, trust me, I've been there before."

"Sherlock, you don't _get_ it. I'm not _like_ you."

"I was in the same spot as you when I was your age, smoking, drinking. Mine, however, moved onto more serious things."

"I don't care. I'm not you."

"No, you're not. But I can help anyway."

"No you can't."

"John, I can do whatever I want. This is nothing." Sherlock was tired. John could see he hadn't slept in a very long time… But John couldn't help it. He was livid. So what Sherlock hadn't slept? What made him think he could solve every damn problem?

"Nothing? How can you sit there and tell me it's nothing! I'm just like my sister… just like my father!"

"No, you're not. You had a bad few weeks. Just because of that doesn't mean your life is suddenly over."

"Why the hell shouldn't it? If I was this easy to sway, why not next time?"

"I can help."

"How can you help when you're never fucking here?" John was shouting, but he didn't really care.

He knew Sherlock was about to ground him seven ways from sunday. John wouldn't listen, not really. He didn't care, just like Sherlock didn't. If he did care he would-

"I quit the case." It was sudden and John didn't catch it at first. All John heard was 'case' and of _course_ Sherlock was talking about the case again he never-

"Of course you-" John stopped and actually understood what Sherlock had said. "You _what_?"

"The case, I quit it."

"Why would you quit the case? You say the work is everything all the time and now you just bloody quit?"

John walked over and finally sat in the seat facing Sherlock, he grabbed the offered cup, but just set it aside. He didn't want tea right now.

"There are a lot of reasons, but first and foremost, I haven't seen you for more than five minutes at a time in nearly two months. With everything that's happened, I really think I should be around more. I won't take another case, no matter how interesting, until we get you better."

John wanted to be touched, but he'd been so angry the past few days, it was hard to have any other reaction.

"I'm _fine_! I don't need to get 'better' there's _nothing_ wrong with me!"

"And yet today's the first time you have ever raised your voice at me. There has been something going on and I'm going to help you get past it."

"So you're quitting? What about the people?"

"You know I don't do it for them."

"Do they mean _anything_ to you?"

"Would it help them any if I said yes?"

"No. Not a bloody lick. I'm going back to my room, let me know when I'm ungrounded." He started to get up.

"John sit down, we're talking."

"No. _You're_ talking. I'm going to my room."

"We need to talk about this."

"Did big brother tell you that? Or did you read it on ' '?"

"John sit down, it doesn't matter where I got it from, it's what needs to be done."

"Bull fucking shit."

"Watch your language."

"There's no subtitles."

Sherlock brought a hand to massage his temples. "John, don't you get smart with me."

"How _can_ I? You're Sherlock bloody fucking Holmes. No one can get smart with you!"

"Was it the same friend you made last week that was the cause of last night's _adventure_?"

"Leave him out of it."

"Come over here and talk with me face to face." John did. He remembered how Jim reacted to meeting Sherlock before. Even though he was pissed at his friend, he didn't want the older man to stop being his friend.

"If he's the one who brought this on, I think you should stay away from him."

"You're one to talk! _You_ , who not four years ago, were on enough drugs to kill an elephant!"

Sherlock didn't even blink. John wanted to take back the words, but he really wanted to hurt Sherlock too. He wanted to unsay them… but they felt so _good_.

"I'm not saying he's a bad person. I'm saying you're better than that, John."

"What, better than him? Or better than _you_?"

"John, I was very stupid. My brother tried to help for years. For _years_ , John, I lived on the streets. Starving and not caring where my next meal was coming from, not where I could sleep, only where my next fix was.

"I met Lestrade when I was 19 because someone tipped them off about the drug den I had been in at the time. I have done _awful_ things for drugs. Things even _I_ won't say out loud. All for drugs. And you know how it started? Cigarettes. Cigarettes and a smooth talking friend who was cool."

That… didn't matter. John wasn't going to be like Sherlock.

"I'm not you. I'm not going to suddenly shoot up."

"Nether did I."

"Why then? If drugs are soooo addictive, why did you stop?"

"Because of you."

"...Me?"

"Yes. I swore I'd help you and I couldn't do that if I was constantly high. The day you and I met on the bridge? That's when I swore it off. God, I've wanted to go back. But I haven't and I won't because I know your father was always under the influence of some substance or another. And I'm not your father. I'm your friend."

The wind was knocked out of John. He slumped back and finally picked up his cup. It was perfect. Maybe he was being too rude… he didn't want to be a pushover, but this… what John was doing was cruel.

He took a deep breath. "Okay. You're right, I… yeah things have been going on. I just, I'm not ready to talk about them."

"We need to. Not right this second, but tonight. Neither of us is leaving until we've talked this through. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."

John nodded slowly. "My friend… He just… I want him to think I'm cool. He's really cool and I want to be like him. He's funny, charismatic, and so… amazing."

"I had a friend like that. He's the one who pushed me. I just didn't know when to say no. I'm not saying your friend is the same, I'm saying I want you to see how it could end." Sherlock rolled up his sleeve. There were track marks. A lot of track marks. John didn't know how to react. He knew Sherlock wore long sleeves every day. John himself did too, for different reasons, but he suspected Sherlock knew about it. That wasn't what they were talking about right now, though. John took in the marks. They were faded, but there were still so many of them.

"I… okay. I won't. I'll stop. I won't touch it if you don't…"

"Deal."

John sighed in relief. He really hadn't liked being at odds with Sherlock. He took another sip of tea. "So… I guess you know about school, too?"

"No. Pray tell."

Shit. Why had John opened his mouth? "I… well as long as I'm being truthful, I… Well I haven't gone to school in almost two weeks."

Sherlock sighed. "Do you want to be homeschooled?" It wasn't a threat, it was a real question. And John didn't know anymore.

"I don't know. I… maybe that would be better. School has been nothing but trouble… Maybe I just wasn't ready."

"I think that a lot of things have happened and it made it harder."

"I think as long as I keep going, it will get better."

"If that's what you want."

"Can I still change my mind later?"

"Always."

"Then… I think I'll stay a little longer."

Sherlock nodded, looking like now was the time to stay anything more that he might have done.

"Can I still text him?"

"As long as I can meet him soon."

"He… He said he didn't want to meet you yet."

"Then he doesn't want to be your friend."

"I… Can I text him and let him know what the situation is? I'm rather upset with him myself…"

"Yes, you may. Just remember what we've talked about here."

"So," John hesitated. "Are you taking back the case?"

"I don't think so. If I'm right, there will only be three more bodies. I'm- well, frankly, John, I'm worn out. I haven't eaten since you make me that sandwich. And I haven't slept in longer. I'm not ready for a case."

"I… wow you must be burned out if _you're_ admitting it… Okay. I'm going to make you some food, then you're going to take a nice long nap."

"I would argue, but that sounds phenomenal." Sherlock smiled. He looked pale and his eyes had enough bags for an airport.

"When I've had a bit of rest, you and I can talk about what you're hiding under your jumpers all the time."

John's heart froze. He knew Sherlock would say something sooner or later, but he'd _really_ hoped it would be later.

"I… I'd rather not?"

"I'm sorry, John. That's a serious issue. I'd really like you to stop that as well."

"I'll… I'll try."

"I can help. Don't worry, I've got experience there too. But that's for another time. I trust you, John. Don't make me wrong."

"I- I'll go make you something."

John rushed off to the kitchen. His arm burned from the cuts that he'd put on himself, yes, but he hadn't even done it in a while. They were scabbed over and didn't even really bleed anymore. John always waited until they were healed before doing it again.

There were reasons. He wasn't trying to kill himself… but he… well, it was complicated. He'd have to carefully go through and figure out why later. Right now, he made Sherlock a light snack, knowing the detective's stomach couldn't handle much right now.

John hung back a second to text Jim.

 _ **You and I need to talk, I'm pissed at you right now. Let me know when you're not busy. Sherlock needs to sleep and I'd rather not yell at you and wake him up.**_

 _ **-JW**_

When that was done, he brought it in only to find Sherlock asleep sitting up in his chair, head slumped forward. "You unbelievable git." John sighed affectionately.

Sherlock would be _very_ sore when he woke up if he stayed like that.

John struggled and twisted and pulled and _finally_ got Sherlock into a more relaxed position and threw a blanket over him.

If he weren't so damn _small_ he could have probably picked Sherlock up and carried him to the couch if not his room.

John, once again, wished for a growth spurt. Soon, he'd be as tall as Sherlock. He just knew it.

He'd be able to fit into the taller man's jacket, too.

John knew he had to do a comparison. He sought out Sherlock's belstaff. It was on the coat rack, right next to the door.

John turned back, making _sure_ Sherlock was asleep before he reached up to the long coat. He had to tiptoe to reach it, but he finally had a hold of it. He pulled it down and examined it. He turned again, unconsciously, then slipped his arms into the allotted slots.

He pulled it up and frowned. Even hiked up as high as it could go, the coat dragged in the floor by about half a meter. Which wasn't fair at _all_. John couldn't be _that_ much shorter… right?

John thought maybe he just had to have the hat on. Yeah. That would fix it. And the scarf. Maybe the shoes too.

He was _not_ playing dress up. This was for science. John wanted to know how Sherlock's things felt now, so when he was taller he could laugh at everyone who called him small.

"See, it even almost fits." He mumbled after doing up the buttons and tiptoeing.

The door suddenly opened and he was mortified. The buttons were hard to undo and there was no way he could get out of this getup in the time it took for someone to open the door.

He was resigned to his fate when Greg walked in.

The D.I. took one look at John and burst into laughter.

"John, by the gods, what are you-"

"Shh!" John pointed at Sherlock's sleeping form. "This is for… science."

"Sure it is. And so's this picture." John heard the camera shutter and nearly pushed Lestrade out of the flat trying to get the phone.

"Aaaannnd _sent_. Sherlock is going to _love_ this when he wakes up. So will the yard."

"Oh, come off it. What do you even fucking want?"

"Hey, don't give me sass. I came to make sure you and Sherlock hadn't killed each other during, I assume, your guys' talk."

"We didn't. Please leave."

"Listen John, if you ever-"

"Listen, Greg. I don't care. I have had to explain my actions and I regret them. I'm still coming to terms with how I can win back trust and- Will you stop fucking laughing?"

"I can't help it! You look so cute. I can't take you serious in that outfit."

Another picture. "Get out before I go wake Sherlock up."

"You wouldn't. Then _he'd_ see you wearing his clothes."

"Damn it Greg, this is my flat and I have a fucking say on who gets to be here. Right now, _you_ aren't welcome."

"Okay, fine. But one more picture. I'm sending these to everyone in my contacts list." John shoved the D.I. to the door, then slammed it after him, making Sherlock stir. John froze. He'd just _die_ if Sherlock woke up and saw John right now… luckily, the universe didn't hate him as much today.

Sherlock settled in again, and John all but ripped the ridiculous clothes off of him. He wouldn't be caught like that again.

John couldn't stop blushing. That had been a nightmare. And now everyone and their cousin would see John like that… He almost wished it was the photo Jim had taken… Almost. Speaking of, John had a message.

 _ **Come to lunch? We can talk then.**_

 _ **Xoxo**_

 _ **~J**_

John sighed. He had to. He wanted things with he and Jim to be good again. And Sherlock had brought up a good point. If he and Jim didn't meet, Jim didn't care about John enough.

 _ **I'll meet you at the usual place in 15.**_

 _ **-JW**_

John left Sherlock a note, saying where he'd be, but John didn't really expect Sherlock to wake up any time soon.

He grabbed his jacket and walked to the small coffee shop nearby.

When he got there, Jim was already sitting at their table, two cups already there. John didn't really trust Jim right now, so he left the cup.

"Johnny boy! I'm so glad to see your owner let you out after being _so_ naughty!" Jim giggled.

John tried to quell his anger. He was trying to move past it… but Jim was making it really hard with his name calling and belittling.

"I don't belong to him. And it was _your_ fault." John dropped into the chair.

"Oh, don't get a bit head, Johnny. It's not an attractive look on you. I like you just the way you are. Small." Jim picked up the cup but didn't take a sip. "I know you're not his." He swirled the piping hot liquid. "Because you're _mine_."

"Damn it, Jim. No I'm not. I'm here to lay down some rules."

"Aw, putting on the big boy pants?"

"Jim, what is _with_ you today? You're being mean… More so than usual." John was starting to get worried. What if something was wrong?

"I just don't like seeing _my_ pet in someone else's clothes."

John's eyes widened.

"How-I…" John cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're not as good a liar as you seem to think."

"It doesn't even matter. I'm not yours and we need to talk. I'm still really mad at you!"

"And I don't care. You're the one who wanted to drink, you're the one who got caught."

"Yeah? Well, I would never have had anything to drink if it hadn't have been for you!"

"That's where you're wrong. Forget about dear old dad?"

John froze.

"Oh, yes. I know _all_ about little Johnny's childhood."

"I-I'm leaving." John tried to stand.

"No you're not. Sit back down." Jim waited until the boy did as he said. "I apologize… I've been having… let's call it trouble at work. I did not mean to say those nasty things out loud."

"I- but how did you-"

"I do believe you were trying to scold me?"

"I-..." John knew this was his chance. He cleared his throat. "Sherlock wants to meet you. He said he's not mad, but if we're allowed to stay friends, he said you had to. And before you refuse, I'm with him. If you two don't meet…" Jim pulled out his phone, causing John to lose confidence. "I'm, well, Jim, I'm done. I can't keep, ya know… lying to him…"

Jim showed John the screen. It was a picture Jim had taken of John while John was on his knees.

"You- you said-!"

"Maybe I lied."

John could only stare in horror as Jim pressed 'share photo' and started to type Sherlock's number. John didn't have it in his mind to think about how Jim had Sherlock's number. His finger hovered over the send button.

Jim then hit the power button.

" _Don't_ get cocky, pet. I could ruin you in a second. Less, even. But I won't. Not this time."

"W-why would you scare me like that?"

"Because, you need to know what I'm capable of. Even if I agree to meet you're precious Sherlock."

"Y-you mean-?"

"Yes. I'll set up a meeting for us."

"A-also… I'm done drinking. I really don't like the consequences."

"I assume the cigarettes are also out."

"Correct."

"Well, any other meaningless 'rules' you feel the need to lay out?"

John thought. Aside from deleting the pictures, there really wasn't. "No… I think that's it." Then a thought. "Oh! Can we not stay out as late…? We can hang out during the day… after school… I have to start going again, by the way. I just, staying out that late is… not safe."

"Oh, Johnny, you don't know who you're talking to. Okay. I can agree. I was trying to see how far I could push you anyway. You need to be less of a pushover."

Less? John thought he needed to be more… He'd said some pretty horrid things already today.

Maybe just not to Jim. Jim would kill him… just to see if John would let him. John had to put his foot down… he would just need to practice and not go to far…

It was like standing in the desert during a monsoon. Nothing made sense and everything was dangerous.

"Wait… don't you have work during the day?"

"Yes, but no one is going to say anything, I'm important."

"O-oh… Okay. Well… do you want to come to my house today?"

"Will Sherlock be there?"

"Yes."

"We'll see. I'll text you about it later."

"You're leaving?"

"Pet, you've been trying to get out of this conversation since it started. You're on your own for being mad at me."

"I-"

"See you later, Johnny Boy."

Jim left without another word and John was left to sit and watch after him. Sherlock and Jim might meet tonight… and there was no _way_ it was going to end well.

John sighed and got up. As he walked home, he realized something odd… How had Jim known about the picture? Surely he didn't know Lestrade… Maybe a friend of a friend? But who would be friends with both Jim and Greg?

Maybe it would be easier to tell if he knew what Jim did for a living…

When John got back, Sherlock was still out cold on the chair. John could try to get into the phone and delete the picture… but if even Jim had seen it, there was almost no hope for Sherlock never seeing it in all his life… That didn't mean John wasn't going to try.

Sherlock's phone was password protected… and there were any _number_ of things it could or couldn't be… John knew it was a four letter word… so that narrowed it down some.

John didn't know how many guesses he had until it locked the phone up, but that was starting to look like where it was going.

 _Game_

 _221B_

 _Clue_

 _Work_

 _Case_

John felt arrogant, but he typed ' _John_ ' into it… only for the thing to beep incorrect.

And then John was locked out.

 _Too many failed attempts, please try again in one minute._

"Oh, come on! You bloody ridiculous _thing_." John shook the phone, knowing it wouldn't really do anything.

"John?" Sherlock was awake… John must have been louder than he thought.

"Uh, yes?"

"What are you doing with my phone?"

"I-Well… someone sent a picture to it of me in an… embarrassing situation… and I wanted to try to delete it before you saw…?"

Sherlock leapt up. "Is it from him? The one that r-" Sherlock's eyebrows shot up. "The one that had the picture of you?" John didn't know what Sherlock had just stopped himself from saying, but now he wanted to know.

John shook his head vigorously. "N-no!" Sherlock flopped back down. "It's not that bad… He… he said he wouldn't unless I told and I didn't. This one was from Lestrade. I'd still rather you didn't see it though…"

"Oh, John, I think it hardly matters."

"B-"

"No buts, young man. Hand me my phone."

John took a deep breath. "Just know that this was for science."

"I'll keep it in mind."

Sherlock waited the last few seconds then unlocked his phone. John tried to see the password, but he couldn't quite catch it.

"John."

John turned bright red. "Y-yes, Sherlock…?"

"Please do not wear my clothes without permission again. You seem to have made a habit of it. I want that jacket back, by the way."

His ears burned. "It's in my room." John tried to pretend Sherlock wasn't trying to hold in laughter… But there was only so much he could delude himself into thinking. "I'll go get it…"

As soon as John had reached the top of the stairs, he heard Sherlock let out a small chuckle. John was not happy. Now everyone in his whole life had seen how utterly small he looked.

He grabbed the jacket and trudged back down the stairs.

"John, I'm going out a little later. I need to… set things straight with Lestrade. I may have been a bit harsh on him."

"Who are you and where is Sherlock?"

"Very funny, John, but if they ever need help, and they will, I don't want him to try to find someone else… not that he could."

John smiled. "Okay. My friend said he was okay with meeting you. He said he's set something up."

"Good. Alright. I'm going back to sleep. Don't lock me out of my phone again."

"Well, you know _my_ password!"

"No, I figured it out. Pick something harder than _jam_ or _tea_ , John. Really."

"Well, what's yours?"

"I can't just tell you. That wouldn't be any fun at all."

"I'm changing mine." John grumbled. He knew just what he'd change it to. _Bridge_ was a hard concept for John to be okay with… but no one who knew him would guess it and it was easy to spell.

"Good luck with that. Wake me up at half seven." Sherlock got up and walked into his room, shutting the door with a decided _click_.

John groaned. He cleaned up a bit in the sitting room then, exhausted and still with a headache, laid down on the couch to take a cat nap. He'd be up before Sherlock needed to be and, really, naps were amazing. Leo, who had taken this moment to come in from the kitchen, jumped up and settled with John, making it warm.

"Hey, Leo… sorry I've been, ya know, avoiding you lately… But I promise, I'm not going to do that anymore. I'll be around so often, you'll _wish_ I was away."

John giggled slightly. " _Then_ who would give you treats?"

Leo's head perked up at the word and he started to meow.

"Oh, I guess I shouldn't have said that… Now I'd be a right bastard not to get you one, wouldn't I…?" John got up to get Leo a treat, grabbing his phone from the kitchen counter as he did so.

Jim had sent a text.

 _ **I'll be at your place at 7:45ish. See you then, Johnny.**_

 _ **Xoxo**_

John quickly replied.

 _ **Sherlock won't be here, maybe some other day?**_

 _ **-JW**_

 _ **I'll still come keep you company.**_

 _ **Xoxo**_

John smiled. He wouldn't be bored out of his mind!

 _ **Cool. See you soon!**_

 _ **-JW**_

Jim and Sherlock would _just_ miss each other. Strange, that. John knew they had to do something fun. It was the first time Jim would be over. Maybe they could cook dinner… or do arts and crafts? No, no… John wasn't a nine year old… maybe he'd have a better list when he woke up.

John laid back on the couch and, with Leo munching away at the snack, fell asleep.

* * *

 **How was it?**

 **Reviews make my day! Stop by and say hi!**

 **Again, I hope to have chapter 16 up a lot sooner than it took for this one...**

 **Have a beautiful day!**

 **Xoxo,**

 **~Miss Taken**


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